Bondage Hotel Read online

  “Good choice. It’s waterproof and rustproof. Should last for years.”

  As the woman packed her bag, Hazel counted out what she owed for her purchases, then paid her and showed her to the door, in a hurry to find a mirror and see how her rings looked.

  Tearing her clothes off, she gasped in stunned delight at what she saw.

  Below her curly auburn triangle, gleaming gold twinkled and glittered as she turned this way and that, her shining rings contrasting delightfully with the pink folds of her labia, the combination of hard metal and soft flesh was devastatingly erotic.

  It took three days for Hazel’s piercings to heal fully, but as she sat naked on Miles’ huge bed, she knew that the end result was well worth the wait.

  Staring down at the gold hoops adorning her labia, she panted to the flaring heat of her arousal, then slowly reached for the padlock, hooked it through her rings and clicked it closed, barring all access to her sex...even for her own fingers.

  The sensations that swept over her as she locked her own belly out of reach matched the emotions she always felt when Miles tied her up and for the same reason.

  Without the keys to the padlock, she was as powerless to bring herself to orgasm as she was when he spreadeagled her on his bed.

  Surprised and a little frightened by the immediate searing heat that flooded her body, Hazel stood up quickly to fetch the keys...and doubled over instantly to the shock of the unaccustomed and intensely thrilling weight between her thighs.

  Bent over, she squealed and froze, unable to believe that a few ounces of steel could have such a shattering effect and cause such incandescent sexual arousal to spear to the core of her belly.

  The slightest movement of the padlock pulled unevenly at the rings through her labia and transmitted twin jolts of furious heat, milliseconds apart, directly into her sex.

  She daren’t move…yet she must, for the keys lay on the bedside table and were her only means of removing the padlock.

  The table was two steps from her trembling, wildly aroused body.

  With infinite care, she straightened up, gasping as the movement increased the sensation of weight at her belly, then took a careful step forward.

  The padlock swung...and Hazel climaxed, hot love juices crashing into her belly and sex as she surrendered to the delicious tugging at her engorged and exquisitely sensitive labia.

  And that was only the first of four climaxes she gave herself that day with the help of her rings and padlock, for Hazel was determined to greet Miles with her rings locked together and wanted to be able to move at least a few paces, from the front door directly to the bedroom, she hoped, without coming at the first step.

  It wasn’t easy, but she persisted, locking her rings each day and forcing herself to endure the ferocious arousal, until she grew almost accustomed to the weight of the body-warm steel at her belly and even began to like the feel of it bumping against her thighs as she walked.

  Through it all, Hazel never forgot for an instant why she had had her rings inserted, or why she put herself through such deliciously satisfying torment.

  Miles...and her desire to please him by becoming, at least some of the time and in private, his willing slave-girl.

  She even felt a little bit like a slave-girl now, her rings and padlock taking the place of the collars she had felt so envious of when she looked at the pictures in the bondage magazines.

  Not so obvious, of course, but Miles would know she wore them and he would have the only keys to her body and that was what mattered.

  The day before Miles was due back, Hazel decided to spend that night with her padlock on. She was well aware that it would mean a long, frustrating night of restless arousal for her, but that, by the time Miles arrived home, her body would be acutely sensitive and tingling with excited anticipation.

  When she handed him the keys and showed him what they were for, she knew that he was bound to want to unlock her straight away and she would be so in need and so responsive that she would probably climax there and then.

  Which was when she planned to explain that she wanted to be his fantasy slave-girl for a while.

  That was Hazel’s plan, but it didn’t quite work out that way...

  Miles Hetherington had had an extremely busy and successful week and was in an exuberant mood as he drove up to his house.

  His story to Hazel of attending a seminar had been pure fabrication.

  In reality, he had been meeting with his partner, a French gourmet chef named Anton Dubeq, and his financial backer, Paolo deCastillo, an expatriate Brazilian millionaire, to finalise details regarding the opening of their joint project, the Bondage Hotel.

  Renovation work had been completed, all services had been completed and checked, security and safety systems tested, paths and gardens laid, and discreet advertising placed in the appropriate circles.

  All that remained to be done was the final hand-over by the builders and, to that end, all three partners had travelled down together to carry out a four day inspection of every inch of the building and the surrounding grounds.

  Everything had been found satisfactory and after deCastillo signed the final cheque, celebratory champagne toasts had been drunk to the success of the venture.

  deCastillo had then left, his interest in the hotel being purely financial and Miles and Anton, who were to actually run the business, settled down to detailed planning.

  They made an excellent team, Miles to handle day-to-day operations and Anton to run the catering and it was obvious that both knew exactly what was required.

  As they should have done, for they had been planning for over two years.

  After forty-eight hours of intense discussions, they settled on an opening date two months in the future and turned their attention to staffing arrangements, for which they shared responsibility.

  “How is the lovely Giselle coming along?” Miles asked and Anton smiled mirthlessly.

  “She will be ready, my friend. The slave collar I placed about her pretty throat is not for decoration and Giselle knows it. She adores me and fears me equally, but obeys me one hundred percent. I have not yet told her that I am bringing her here to serve our guests in any way they desire, but she will find out eventually. And what of your new slave, who I have not yet met?”

  “Her name is Hazel and she has long red hair,” Miles replied. “You will enjoy having her as much as I enjoy Giselle when you are kind enough to lend her services to me.”

  “So, red hair,” Anton mused, “A change for me, then. Have you collared her yet?”

  “Not yet, but very soon.”

  “Isn’t that leaving it a bit late?”

  “Relax, Anton. She is a natural submissive and already loves to be bound. She will not be permitted to resist enslavement or delay our plans. And if she tries, there is always the whip...”

  “True. Very true. Well, I shall leave the matter in your capable hands, Miles. So when do you plan to bring her here for her final training and familiarisation?”

  “Immediately. I have already resigned from my job and there are, as you know, superb slave training facilities here.”

  “Then I shall see you again in two weeks, when I will bring Giselle with me. It will be interesting to see how they react to finding themselves set to work together, will it not?”

  “Indeed it will. And if they do not get on...”

  “There is always the whip,” Anton finished and the two partners, dominant bondage Masters both, chuckled cruelly.

  Hazel rose early from her erotically disturbed slumber, showered and brushed her long red hair until it shone with health and began to prepare the house and herself for Miles’ return.

  At her every movement, the padlock between her legs tugged at her ringed labia, arousing her delightfully and she had to force herself not to remove it and bring herself to the climax she fervently desired, determined that her body’s willing surrender should be to Miles.

  During her long, restless night, her act
ive brain had added some refinements to her sketchy plan to offer herself as his slave-girl and she stripped the bed, leaving only the bottom sheet in place.

  Then she took the ropes which Miles always used to spreadeagle her, knotted them firmly to the four corners of the bed and lay them on the sheet, ready for instant use.

  Her belly glowed with fierce heat, her nipples stiffening as she fetched her leather cuffs and buckled them on her wrists and ankles. Her sex grew wet with desire as she spread her body into a giant “X” in front of the mirror and savoured the thrilling twinges of discomfort which accompanied the position as her labia tried to open but were prevented from doing so by the padlock joining her rings.

  Her reflected belly fluttered as she examined her body, posed in the display she intended Miles to see when he walked into the house and shivered with anticipation of his reaction.

  Slowly, she stretched out her right hand and practised the words she would say to him. “These are the keys to my body. Use them...and me...as you wish.”

  The words sounded even better than she had imagined they would and her belly swirled with almost unbearable excitement.

  Reluctantly, Hazel relaxed her pose and walked through to the lounge, feeling at every step the uncompromising weight of her padlock and the arousal it caused.

  When she gave Miles the keys, she would no longer be able to release herself.

  Her padlocked rings, like the collar of a slave-girl, would be his to control, to be removed or not, as he and only he chose.

  Hazel could hardly wait.

  The sound of his car drawing up outside sent her springing to her feet and as she spread her body into position, her desire soared to fever pitch.

  Miles walked through the door and halted in mid-stride as he was confronted by the sight of Hazel’s naked, beautifully displayed body standing immobile in the centre of the room.

  His eyes raced over her nudity, drinking in her taut breasts and erect nipples, then moved lower, to her silky auburn triangle and spread thighs...and there, his eyes stopped, riveted to the gleaming golden rings transfixing her labia and the padlock linking them together.

  Hazel quivered in delicious fear as he moved slowly towards her, his eyes never leaving her pierced belly and she held out her hand, proffering the keys to her padlock.

  “M...M...Miles,” she quavered hoarsely, “These are the ...keys to my b...body. U...Use them and m...me as you w...w...wish.”

  Miles stopped a yard from her posed nudity and his eyes rose to bore into hers, his hand reaching out to take the keys from her trembling fingers.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Hazel?” he asked mildly.

  Hazel, not knowing of his plans for her, really thought she did. “Yes, I...I think so. I...I hope you ...like it,” she replied anxiously, “I wanted to please you, Miles.”

  “Oh, you have, Hazel. You most definitely have,” he chuckled, “I love it. But what made you think of having your labia pierced?”

  Hazel blushed prettily. “I didn’t at first,” she confessed, “I ...wanted a st...steel collar like the slave-girls in the magazines, but I wouldn’t have been able to wear that all the t...time, would I? Not in p...public.”

  Miles grinned but didn’t speak as Hazel went on. “Then I saw an advert in one of the magazines for b...body p...piercing and thought that might be ...better.”

  “And it is,” Miles jingled the keys in his hand thoughtfully. “So, you wanted a slave collar, did you, Hazel? Why was that?”

  Her flush intensified. “Because...Because I want to be your s...slave-girl, Miles,” she stammered, then fell silent, her body shaking with arousal and embarrassment.

  “Then a slave-girl you shall be,” he said firmly. “Kneel down there and cross your wrists behind your back.”

  Hazel stared at him uncertainly. “Wh...why, Miles? What are you going to do?”

  He grinned at her, “If you truly want to be a slave-girl, Hazel, you must learn not to question the orders of your Master.”

  Her soft green eyes opened wide. “M...M...Master?” she whispered. “You mean...you?”

  “Every slave-girl needs a Master.” His eyes glittered as he spoke, “I will be yours.”

  Hazel’s belly gave a massive kick and she gasped as her padlocked rings tugged at her sensitive flesh and her mind pictured her as one of the bound slave-girls in her magazines.

  It was what she had dreamed of every night since her piercings.

  “Yes, Miles,” she said obediently and sank to her knees, looking up at him as humbly as she could while her belly burned and seethed.

  “Yes, Master,” he corrected her calmly. “As a slave, you must call me Master. And cross your wrists behind you as I ordered.”

  “Yes...M...Master,” her voice trembled as she thrust her hands behind her and felt her sex ooze with her juices as she obeyed his double command.

  “Don’t move and don’t make a sound,” he told her, then hurried through to the bedroom.

  Hazel’s brain reeled in arousal and confusion, her plan gone awry.

  It had begun all right, Mile’s reaction to finding her pierced had been everything she had hoped.

  But then he had taken over and she was on her knees as a slave-girl calling him Master, and she still couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

  She shook her head, amazed at herself.

  It was true that she had planned to be his slave-girl and that she would have obeyed him willingly anyway, but she had never anticipated that, instead of immediately taking her in his arms and making her respond helplessly to his caresses, he would order her to wait in silence until he finished doing whatever he was doing.

  That had come as a complete surprise to her.

  As much of a surprise as her own meek obedience and the instant arousal that had flared in her belly as she sank to her knees in front of him.

  Miles strode back into the room with a small wooden box in his hands and walked over to her kneeling body.

  “I like the ropes on the bed,” he said briskly, “And I hadn’t noticed that you are already wearing your cuffs. That’s very good. It will save time later.”

  Hazel blushed. “Thank you, Mile...Master.”

  He frowned, then smiled, “I did not give you permission to speak.”

  She very nearly fell into the trap, but just managed to bite off the “No, Master” that was on the tip of her tongue.

  “Excellent, Hazel,” he congratulated her, “You’re a fast learner and that is very important for a slave.”

  She gave a quick, nervous smile, but kept her mouth tightly closed, wondering why it was so important, then forgot about it as he held out the box to her.

  “You have taken so much trouble to give me a present,” he said, “That I have decided to return the favour. This is something I have had specially made for you and I’m quite sure it will be very useful. Go on, take it.”

  She took the unexpectedly heavy box from his hands, then hesitated.

  “Open it,” he urged. “Don’t be afraid. You deserve it.”

  She placed the box on the floor and lifted the lid and her eyes opened wide.

  Nestled on a bed of soft black velvet, like a precious jewel, a circle of highly polished steel gleamed in the light and Hazel felt her belly give a slow roll as she saw her own name etched deep into the smooth metal.

  She had only ever seen one in the bondage magazines, but recognised it at once.

  A slave collar.

  An open slave collar.

  For her.

  Thrilled and horrified at the same time, she lifted it out of the box and gulped as she felt its weight and its smoothness and saw three smaller rings welded to its centre and sides.

  “Mm. It is rather nice, isn’t it?” Miles observed and as Hazel raised her stricken eyes to his smiling face, added, “You may speak now.”

  “It’s...It’s...beautiful,” she gasped. “I w...want to wear it, but it...it scares me. It’s so strong and so
...so...”

  “Permanent,” he said flatly. “Yes, it is. It’s meant to be. Now, put it on.”

  Hazel licked her dry lips. “W...Will I be able to...to take it off again?”

  Miles sighed. “Let me explain something to you,” he said patiently, “What you hold in your hands is your slave collar. When you make the decision to place it around your own neck, you become a slave. And as a slave, it is no longer your decision whether you wear a collar or not. That is up to your Master. I will be your Master and I had the collar made for you. As my slave, you will wear it for as long as I choose.”

  His uncompromising words left no room for doubt or further discussion and Hazel made the only decision her aroused body, her curiosity and her desire to repay and please him, would let her make.

  Without a word, she lifted the gleaming steel and snapped it closed around her slim throat.

  The sharp double click of internal catches locking closed, coincided with her soft gasp of surrender as a foaming wave of love juices thundered into her belly and her long delayed orgasm swept over her.

  On her knees before the man she called “Master” and whose steel encircled her throat, Hazel shuddered and spasmed to the thrilling knowledge that, of her own free will, she had collared herself and by so doing, become his slave.

  Miles allowed her no time to reconsider her decision. “On your feet, slave,” he ordered, “Go to the bed and spreadeagle yourself.” Then he followed her as she stumbled to the bedroom and obeyed.

  Still pulsing to her climax, Hazel shivered as the waiting ropes drew taut on her cuffed limbs, opening her wide and securing her helplessly.

  Miles stripped naked and perched on the bed beside her, his eyes glowing with pleasure and lust as he jingled the keys to her padlocked rings. “Your first climax as my collared slave,” he said softly. “The first of many you will receive as I teach you your slavery.”

  Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, he pressed his palm over her lips. “You will remain silent until I give you permission to speak, slave,” he said coldly. “If you disobey, you will be gagged. It is important for a slave to learn quickly. If you do not, you will learn that a slave may be punished.”