Hello, Stranger I

Kayla felt stupid.

Stupid. She thought to herself. Who the hell goes to a bar alone? In this day and age? She imagined her friends scoffing while they continued to swipe on their phones, setting up dates left and right with an unending parade of six-pack abs, fighter pilots, Tesla-driving entrepreneurs, and the like. Which was all well and good for them…

…but Kayla craved a connection. An x-factor you couldn’t feel through a glass screen. The kind where expectations were not set and yet were wildly exceeded all the same. There was only so much of her that she was willing to distill into an online profile, and she wanted someone well versed in... Hmm. The unspoken? Maybe that was the word she was looking for. She swirled a martini absently in her hand, deep in thought. 

That need, along with an unacceptably long dry spell that was leaving her increasingly frisky, had driven her out to a hotel bar she’d picked on a whim.

She shifted slightly in her skirt, the short fabric riding consciously high up on her thigh, and surveyed the patrons.

Slim pickings was the phrase that came to mind. Slim-god-damn-pickings. 

She took another swig of her martini and sighed out loud, sizing up the men where her gaze settled and dismissing them almost as quickly as she registered them. That one was married, that one was desperate, that one needed to learn how to dress, and that one-

“You know you’re never going to find him like this.”

A baritone voice thrumming with a rich timbre spoke up to her left. 

She yelped involuntarily, whirling around to face her aural assailant, and suddenly felt small. 

The gentleman that stared back wore a business suit, a steady gaze, and a gentle, self assured smile. One elbow was propped on the bartop as he leaned languidly against the bar, his hazel eyes drilling into her soul. Her skirt felt very short all of a sudden. She felt exposed. Vulnerable.

“Find who?” Shit. Not smooth. Kayla found herself scrambling to keep her composure. Still, the man held a steady gaze, the hint of a smirk toying with the edges of his lips. 

“Who you came here for,” Mr. Business Suit replied,

“Keep scanning the room like that and you might hurt your neck,” he smiled.

Kayla felt scarlet creeping up her neck, but maintained enough sense to come back with a quip of her own.

“And you’re what, giving me a reason to stop?” she attempted to raise an eyebrow, to feign slight detachment, but even she wasn’t convinced.

“You sound like you have a choice,” smiled the stranger. 

Ohhh no. This one knows what he’s doing. Kayla could feel her nethers twitch involuntarily with desire - a desire she usually kept bound and gagged behind multiple layers of polite conversation and coy hints, sprinkled throughout the course of a few dates.

The stranger leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, his breath now scarcely inches from her ear,

“What about that one?” he gestured at a slightly portly man uncomfortably adjusting his pants, oblivious to the duo.

Kayla wasn’t paying attention. His smell, and his closeness had all but burned away every trace of rational thought in her mind. 

“Any interest in that one?” 

Forget the third date, her mind screamed. I want him now. 

“No not…not bargain bin Michael Cera,” she breathed, desperate to sound witty, to sound enticing.

Her stranger chuckled.

“You sure? Any one of these men would love to take you upstairs. You have your pick of the litter, you know.”

Upstairs. Her knees bent inwards at the implication, and she knew there was no way he’d missed seeing her squirm. She let her fingers rest on his hand on the bar, her mind reeling from the uncharacteristically direct display of interest.  

“I…” Shit. I can’t even think I’m so wet I want this so-

“Have someone else in mind?’ the stranger suddenly pulled back to his seat, making her groan inwardly in frustration. 

She was breathless. He hadn’t even touched her and they both knew he’d won.

“I don’t even know your name,” she pleaded more than said.

The man just smiled. 

-

She remembered the trip to his room in a blur. 

At one point he had her pressed against the elevator walls, her wrists seized in one hand and pinned above her head. 

No expectations, huh? She chided herself. A part of her wrestled with the obvious danger of following a stranger into his room, and another part of her wanted all of him enmeshed with all of her. 

She leaned back to expose her neck, and he wasted no time planting deep kisses on her skin, each contact of his lips to her flesh sending surges of electricity through her being. He was completely, irrevocably in control, and he hadn’t once asked for permission. Yet she knew she’d given it in entirety without saying a single word.

She remembered the chime of his room door as he opened it, her walking in on her own accord without invitation or prompting. The warm orange light blurred her vision and made her horny beyond measure - but she knew this wasn’t  a situation where she could just take as she pleased. She was going to have to ask for it. He was probably going to make her beg. 

“Take your top off and get on the bed.”

His tone wasn’t commanding. It wasn’t condescending. It was a statement of fact, a foregone conclusion,  and she found herself wordlessly complying. She crawled onto the king-sized bed, feeling like she was going to sink into the satin sheets, and felt her fingers fumble with the buttons on her blouse. Her panties were soaked through, and she had the sense she’d bitten off way more than she could chew. Her top fell away, and she felt dangerously exposed, her thighs brushing against the glossy satin sheets, her breasts rising and falling in the lingerie she’d painstakingly chosen hours earlier. 

He held her gaze steadily as he let his jacket drop to the floor, and she saw his muscles bulge through his white shirt. His fingers flicked the buttons off, one by one, and she felt herself clinging to sanity as his skin was exposed. She felt like she was seeing a man naked for the first time, and she’d seen her fair share.

When his shirt was off he joined her, pinning her to the bed as his strong, wide palms ran down her bare shoulders and seized her wrists. He grabbed both wrists with one hand, holding them above her head. His free hand traced a lazy finger down her chest, between her tits, down her stomach, terminating his touch frustratingly close to her pubic bone. His eye contact never wavered, and she let her desires bleed freely out of her, arching her back towards him. More. 

“More?” he smirked.

“Yes. God, yes,” she all but begged, her voice quivering in anticipation.

“You’ll have to work for it.”

Anything for him. Her mind screamed. She was entranced. Entrapped. She wasn’t capable of saying no, and her body screamed with unfulfilled carnal agony. 

She breathlessly nodded, and he released her arms. 

“Good girl. Now close your eyes.”

She did so, and felt his weight leave the bed. She was already breathless and exhausted. He hadn’t even kissed her yet.

She heard drawers open and zippers get unzipped, and her mind jumped to one natural conclusion. Tools. 

The supposition was confirmed when she felt a satin blindfold settle around her eyes and get pulled firmly around the back of her head. Now all she could do was listen, and smell, and feel. She felt him guide one of her hands to the bedposts, and her toes curled in anticipation as she felt velvety soft and furry restraints tighten and buckle around her wrists. She was losing control with every second - but she felt safe. His movements were assured, steady, completely bereft of the jittery desperation she’d known many inexperienced, over-eager partners to have. She felt like she wanted to curl into herself as she strained lightly against the cuffs, feeling the fur brush against her bare skin, the sensory overload made her nether ache in sympathy.

She felt the bed springs depressing as he climbed back on and straddled her. Felt his body heat radiate against her skin. He placed one hand on her chest, gently gliding it up her body and her chin. His palm cupped her chin, lifted it up, and guided her lips onto his.

She felt like she could cum then and there.

The blindfold had robbed her of the exquisite view, but had also simultaneously thrown every other sensation into stark relief. 

His lips were intoxicating. After what had felt like an eternity of teasing she greedily drank in his touch, pushing her head against his as he placed one hand behind her head and pulled her in deeper. His tongue deftly darted in and out of her mouth, teasing, tracing, violating her, drawing her own tongue out in a sensual dance that she was certain was making her gush fluids. She moaned into his mouth, barely catching her breath before going in for more. She felt him exhale, felt his chest against hers, skin against skin. 

She felt one hand circle around to her back and unsnap her strapless bra with practiced ease. This smooth son of a gun, a part of her snarled. Her lingerie fell away, and every pore of her breasts felt a rush of cold air. Her nipples were erect, almost uncomfortably so, and she yearned for his touch, which was taking an agonizingly long time to come. Was he just…looking at her? She took a modicum of satisfaction in that.

After a moment she felt his fingers trace circles around her breasts, and she felt her spine contract and her consciousness tunnel from the stimulation. He took his time, languidly drawing loops around her tits while his tongue continued to dance with hers, making her purr and groan at the same time. He was avoiding her nipples, brushing almost imperceptibly against her areolae, bringing her close to satisfaction, before darting away for another excruciating lap. She was heaving now, every breath heavy with anticipation and arousal. Finally a thumb flicked nimbly across her nipples, and she moaned out loud in shock and pleasure.

“You like that, huh?” he purred.

“Yes…yes…yes, please.” she begged.

He continued to tease her nipples, eliciting whimpers from her as her body shuddered. Then his hands moved to cup her breasts, kneading and caressing them with an expertise that normally betrayed a concerning amount of experience. 

But Kayla did not care.

Then she felt his mouth close around one of her tits and his tongue flick the nipple, and it felt so good she wanted to scream. Many inexperienced boys had pawed at her chest before in some pitiful mimicry of foreplay, but this was different. This man had turned every touch into goddamn art. This was showing up at the buffet and finding Grecian Ambrosia on tap.  He’d made stimulating her tits the main event and then some, and Kayla found herself wracked with desire.

Kayla's wrists curled ineffectually against her restraints, her lithe frame rocking the bed as he worked his magic on one nipple, then the other, his fingers picking up where his tongue left off as he switched sides. The sensory overload seared her mind and clouded her thoughts, and all she could do was moan in approval and buck her hips, her heels trying in vain to dig into the lustrous satin fabric, slipping and sliding as the heat between her legs grew and grew.

Finally, the stranger relinquished his torment and started moving his hands south. He quickly rid her of her skirt, fingers hooking onto her small black panties, and she eagerly lifted her hips to help him rid her of the offending garment. She was soaked through, and her pussy craved the cold kiss of air and everything that came with it.

But he just let the elastic band snap back onto her skin. 

Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

“Told you you’d have to work for it,” he purred.

“Please...” don't say daddy don't say daddy -

“Please, daddy. I want it so bad.” Her mind screamed in equal parts desire and frustration. She could imagine his self assured smile at watching her frustration and cursed herself for being so damn easy to read. For being so damn predictable. For being an open goddamn book in front of a stranger she’d met scarcely two hours ago. 

He released the bonds on her restraints that were cuffed snuggly around her wrists and let her collapse to the bed, then flipped her over in a smooth, confident motion. Still blind, she felt him prop her up on her knees and tie her wrists to the bedposts. Now she was on all fours, her breasts undulating freely as he caressed the entirety of her body and caused her to shake. His hands glided over her thighs, reaching down to grab her ass as they came tantalizing close to her soaked entrance. 

Then he spanked her. 

A sharp clap rang through her mind and caused her to buck her hips in response, yelping in surprise. There was no pain, but she’d felt that vibration right in her clit. She was so sensitive from the teasing that the slightest stimulation surged through her in an overwhelming wave of pleasure, and she understood immediately that she needed more.

“Too much?” he teased. “I can stop-”

“No!” She cried. He spanked her again, harder this time, and the sting of pain was accompanied by a flash of pleasure that coursed through her body and caused her breath to hitch.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice was more commanding this time, and she thought she could melt.

“Yes...daddy...yes…” His hand came down again, and her knees buckled and crossed as pleasure spiked in her mind.

She braced herself for another slap, but the impact never came. Instead, he began gently kneading her rear, adjusting her panties in a way that brushed her labia and barely gave her any relief. Compared to the taste of what he’d just given her, this was pure agony.

“Harder…daddy…please…” she begged. She wasn’t above begging any more. She just needed to feel every drop of pleasure he deigned to inflict. 

“I can’t hear you.” he growled, one hand suddenly squeezing her ass so tight pain and pleasure wrestled at the forefront of her senses.

“HARDER, DADDY!” she cried, all inhibition taking flight. She was rewarded with a series of slaps that caused every muscle in her body to tense. She cried out with each impact as they reverberated through her pussy. She couldn’t believe it, but she felt like she was getting penetrated with each contact. She moaned with a passion she never knew she was capable of, arching her back and letting the sensations rock through her. Her spasms and squeals eventually loosened the blindfold around her eyes, and they dropped to her neck. 

This didn’t escape his notice, and he reached up and pulled the satin blindfold around her mouth, forming a makeshift gag she bit down on with fervor. She pushed herself against his palms, craving the next strike. Darkness began to creep on the edges of her sight, and she was rocked forward again and again, her muffled cries ringing out into the night. Her throat was raw, her body was ravaged, and the only coherent thought she struggled to cling on to was More.

The impacts came with thumping regularity, pushing her face against the backboard and causing her fingers to curl. Her pussy pulsed with each reverberation, and against all odds she felt the first tendrils of an orgasm snake their way into her consciousness. Her yelping became loud, drawn out moans, and her thighs began to quake as her toes balled up tight. Her breath ragged and her face flushed, she felt the telltale foreshocks of a massive orgasm stir in her belly, and was just about to let go, when he wrapped one arm around her stomach and hauled her close to him.

“You’ll cum when I tell you to.” he grunted in her ear. 

And that was that. 

Her body betrayed her in an instant as the orgasm vanished - the buildup drenching her pussy but giving her no relief. Titliation was replaced by exhaustion as she groaned in unfulfilled agony for what must’ve been the twentieth time that night. She collapsed. Defeated. Spent. Submitted.

It was over. He undid the straps on the bedposts and gently pulled her into a light embrace. His hands, moments ago sharp and impactful, massaged her spent body with practiced finesse. The gag around her mouth was untied, and he kissed his way up each individual vertebrae of her spine and her neck as his hands cupped and massaged her breasts, slid over her stomach, and squeezed her shoulders. 

“How…how did you-,” she breathed, the tension escaping her body with every touch. She was done. She was completely drained and her panties were still on. She could scarcely believe it.

“You might be lucky enough to find out,” he said in her ear, pulling her into a warm embrace. She melted into him, feeling safe and held. 

“Aiden, “ he continued.

“Hi Aiden,” she breathed, mildly amused at the late introductions.

 “I’m Kayla.”

 “Can you do one more thing for me, Kayla?”

“Anything,” she said. She hadn’t even had an orgasm, but she felt like she was coming down all the same. Something about his smell and his embrace had dispelled any sense of hesitation she might’ve had, and all she wanted to do was bask in the moment, feeling her back press up against his chiseled chest.

“Close your eyes and count to 20. Silently.”

As she shut her eyes she felt him gently disentangle himself from her and shuffle about the room. Still exhausted, she focused on her breathing as the numbers ticked down in her head. She was too tired to guess at what was coming next.  

When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

She took in the scene, noting an embarrassingly large wet patch on the bed. There was no trace of him or his things, but a singular card had been left on the nightstand next to her clothes, which, she noted, were neatly folded. 

Intimate Fantasies

Aiden C.

A phone number was etched in the back in gold. She tilted the card back and forth, watching the soft glow of the room’s lights glint off the font and send dapples of light across her face. Then she found her purse, whipped out her phone, and tapped softly at the screen.

“Thank you.”

 “Saturday. 1pm. Hotel Bar. White dress. See you there. Aiden C.”

The reply was instantaneous. And she felt her spent nethers stir with feverish anticipation for the next meeting with her mysterious stranger.

 

Written by featured writer:

Freelance Singaporean writer based in Los Angeles

Embers by Amber, IG handle @mr_embers_amber