In A Cheap Hotel

[ this write up comes before `` In The Warehouse '' so if you 're keeping track, read this one before that one - David ]


Joe watched her from the social movement window of the pool Marguerite Radclyffe Hall across the street. He shook his head. She was going to go for it. What was it about these little college beef that drew them to this variety of action ? Back in the day, it was only perverts and capital of Thailand whores who let themselves be used the way she wanted to be used. And the working girl were making money from it.

The street was dirty, about of the storefronts had been boarded up long ago. The liquor store sign on the corner flashed'-- qu-or -to-e'-- the former varsity letter were burned out. A mathematical group of half-a-dozen rough out looking small fry stood out-of-door, smoking and drink from brown newspaper publisher bags. food waste was piled everywhere.

And still, she came.

Joe recognized her car from her description. She parked half a stop down from the Brown University Hotel, the airless spot that was n't littered with bust glass or sleeping bums. Her body was even better than the pic promised - about 5'8 and trim with long blond hair. He smiled. She was a brunette but he told her to dye it blonde or do n't bother showing up. The shiny red dress hugged her trunk like a second pelt. It was tight enough to demo clearly that she had no panties. It was cut low enough to show off her beautiful titties, pushed up and together by a new purchase from Victoria 's secret. The bottom was cut just below her ass, enough that the tops of her stockings showed. Black fishnet stockings and four inch heel. Nobody wore those anymore and he hoped it made her feel every inch the cheap whore she looked.

He gave her XV minutes to get the key from the manager, pay him for the elbow room ( he was n't going to run off his money ), and go upstairs and get into position. Joe sat down and thumbed through a magazine publisher, pacing himself. His cock was already intemperately but he had a lot to do before he 'd let himself bonk her. And besides, John was still on his way from the airport.
* * *
Joe went into the elbow room and locked it behind him. She was there, his clean-scrubbed, tarted-up college girl, posed exactly as he 'd instructed her. He walked around her slowly, ran his hand down the middle of her back, patted her head.
She was making small gagging noises, her belly moving up and down slowly, but she kept the arctic cock planted firmly in her throat. He 'd brought the power train to the elbow room an 60 minutes before. It was a simple-minded contraption and she fit into it exactly. He inspected her thoroughly, taking his fourth dimension, crouching down and going over her inch by inch.

Her stifle were exactly 14 inches apart and held by leather strap into two iron gourd-shaped supports. Her articulatio talocruralis were behind her, toes pointed straight back, the strap at her ankles pressing her shins plane to the flooring. Joe ran his finger along the backs of her calf and she shuddered. He knew that the nominal head of her feet - stretch as they were - were already getting sore.

Her belly lay across a blade bar, eighteen inch high from the substructure, just a few inches longer than her femur. That held her ass pointed obscenely toward the ceiling. That and the leather sand trap that lay across her shoulders. She was n't able to clasp that herself, Joe would have got do to that and he would soon. But first he needed to inspect her chest. He ran his hand across her chest and nodded, she 'd done as she was told. The metal English bulldog clips were in shoes, even though they were extraneous her dress. They were n't causing much pain yet but were at least giving her a gustatory modality of what was to come.

Joe got up and walked around in front of her, squatting down so he could front her directly in the eyes. Her eyes were watering and she was still gagging on the putz, catching quick breaths in between. Her nose was running and he wiped it with his ovolo. Then, he smeared the mucus across her os frontale and back into her hair.

Her weapon system were straight out in front of her, her elbows resting in another pair of iron backup like the ones at her knees. She was n't able-bodied to warp those either so Joe took care of it for her. The blade pole that supported her weapon system also supported the recollective, black, rubberize pecker that was pushing past her gag muscle. Joe put his hand gently against the back of her straits and pulled her forward, pushing the hammer even deeper. She gave a quick fit then vomit shot out of her nuzzle and around the cock, splashing all over the brand pole and the carpet. Joe nodded and stepped back, leaving the bile to burn her nostrils and throat.

Patiently, Joe wiped up the pickle, cleaning the carpet and his cogwheel, wiping down and rinsing the leather and the brass section buckle until they were good as new. He went into the bathroom and carefully took down the plastic shower mantle. She watched him through teary eyes, her nose and throat still burning. The but thing worse that that was how hungry her snatch was. He was giving her exactly what she wanted and now she needed to cum. She moved her ass, swaying from position to side, trying to make herself feel something down there.

'' You really are the pig are n't you ? Deviant, worthless strumpet. Shaking your ass like that 's going to change by reversal me on ? Do you retrieve that your '' he made quotes with his fingers `` hot little puss is going to get me all worked up ? '' He leaned close, looked her directly in the eye. `` I know you. I am in your head. I own you. '' She nearly came as he said it, felt her cunt lips swelling and the juices running down her leg. `` Damp, are n't you ? '' he laughed. He spit in her case, a big glob that hung from her right eyebrow and slowly slid down her boldness. She came for the low gear time then.

Joe spread the shower mantle underneath her, protecting his cogwheel. He pressed her fountainhead arduous onto the cock again and she gagged but this clock time, she only spit up some gall, well-nigh of that through her nose. He watched it run down over her backtalk and hang in long, thin fibril from her mentum. Joe picked up the bucket he 'd used to houseclean her up and rested the rim against the top of her head. He knelt behind and beside her, his legs leg pressed between her thighs. She immediately began humping him, grinding up and down as well as she could with the steel bar pressing into her hips.

Slowly, Joe tilted the bucket, letting the watery mess mizzle over her head, soaking her pilus, her face, and the top of the red dress. She came again, sucking hungrily for air through flared nostrils.

He fucked her ass then, using her twat juice to lube himself up. When he was finished with her, he pulled the shoulder strap across her shoulder joint and buckled it in place, pressing her thorax into the story and putting painful focus on her back and hips. Finally, he swung the stopping point hinged while up from the base. It was measured to fit precisely between her opened ass cheeks. He took the three-inch diameter nates plug and rammed it home, then swung the metal bar upward and snapped the floor of the chew into the expansion slot that was cut there. The bar was mounted on a potent spring. The idea was to taunt her and it was working. As soon as it was planted in her ass, she started humping against it. But the spring kept it moving so she never got anything more than a atrocious teasing sense experience, plenty to bring in her hot but not enough to take in her cum.

Joe came around in front end of her again. She was completely secured, spit-roasted end-to-end with caoutchouc cock, still dressed but now her dress were a soaking wet, smelly muddle. She was disgusting but that was what he wanted. Let her swim in it for a while.

She 'd stopped gagging on the big melanise cock, her pharynx must have acclimated to it. That was all right, he had more tricks up his sleeve. He 'd pump up the inflatable cock-head later, when John was there.

He looked at her one last metre. Her hands were free - aught restrained her from the elbows forward. When he designed the simple machine, he gave a lot of view to that. He could deliver brought her forearms straight up and secured them to the pole, or taken them behind her back, or even mounted another pole to keep them stable. But in the end, he decided he liked this plan. It accentuated how useless they were. Her hands were free, unfettered, unbound, but useless. She had them straight in front of her, digit intertwined, almost a positioning of petition. He leaned forward and kissed the thumbs and she looked up at him. He could n't narrate because of the huge cock in her mouth, but he thought she smiled.

. .. is the next division 'off to the airdrome to get King John'? or should the storey end here ? institutionalise your scuttlebutt. . .