The Hotel Bar

We meet in a hotel bar, the kind of large business hotel you’d find in any city; tastefully generic. It’s reasonably quiet, mostly corporate types unwinding, a smattering of couples from out of town. I lead you to a sofa, tucked away down in a corner and sit opposite on a padded footstool. We drink our cocktails—you down yours quickly out of nervousness and I see the alcohol flush your cheeks. Our knees are touching and I hold your gaze, feeling the sexual tension between us. I lean in, gently nuzzle against your neck, and whisper in your ear...
‘You are to take off your panties and give them to me’.
You’re too shy to reply, but i see your look of doubt. I take your wrist and firmly command ‘Now’.
You look around. The other people in the bar are caught up in conversation and your back is to them anyway. You lift yourself up slightly off the sofa, reach up inside your dress and slide your small black panties down. I take them from your hand, slowly, methodically spreading them out on my knee, neatly folding them, and then place them in the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
‘Good girl’. I whisper
We’re sitting opposite each other and I run my hands run up the sides of your thigh, touching your soft skin. I reach down, lifting your foot and placing it on the footstool between my legs. Gravity does its work and your short white satin dress slides back slightly exposing your soft, hairless pussy to my gaze. I tilt your knee slightly spreading you further open and then firmly say
‘I like this view. You are to keep your foot exactly here.
I can see in your eyes a mixture of self-consciousness and excitement. You begin to smile but your eyes suddenly widen as I raise my hand to motion to the bar’s sole waiter that we’d like to order more drinks. As he walks towards us I press down on your foot, a physical reminder of the position it is to stay in.
He’s a young guy, in his mid 20s. Good looking in a slightly clueless, boy next door kind of way. I can see through his tight, cheap hotel uniform that he clearly works out.
‘What can I get you guys? he innocently asks—and then I see it—a momentary shift in expression and the dart of his eyes as they catch your exposed pussy peeking from beneath your dress. He quickly looks away Your face flushes red and your eyes glare at me, but I’m enjoying this.
‘Just give me a minute’ I say as I pick up the bar menu and slowly work my way through the drink options. I can see in my peripheral vision that his head is titled towards your crotch. I feign interest in he menu. I slowly scan the options. I umm and ahh. Time crawls and I see your head tilted down in a mixture or embarrassment and desire.
Finally, I ask: ‘Are your martini’s any good?’ and as I look up I catch him pulling his eyes from you, and I see the outline of his cock straining awkwardly against his tight pants.
‘Excellent sir’ he replies quickly
I look down for one last, slow flick through the menu.
‘Two martini’s then’
He notes the order and as he turns to walk off I see his last fleetingly glance between your legs.

With one one hand on your knee I lean in close to whisper to you, and as I do I reach down with my other hand and forcefully slide two fingers inside you, making you gasp.
‘You’ve been a very good girl’ I say.
I lean back onto my footstool but keep my fingers deep inside you, my knuckles pushing in hard against your clit, your wetness growing around my fingers, and begin a slow upward stroking motion against the inside of your pubic bone. I tilt the knee of your still raised leg further out and with my leather brogue push your other foot to the side fully spreading and opening you up to me. Your dress rises higher.
If anyone were to now walk past they would see your pussy fully exposed, my fingers slowly but forcefully easing in and out. Your eyes are closed in embarrassment but you’re leaning back into the sofa, unable to resist the pleasure now pulsing through your body, your wetness costing my hands. Your muscles contract and loosen against my fingers, rising in speed and intensity, and I feel the heat in your body as it reaches toward climax.
But, right at that moment, I withdraw my fingers. You eyes part in surprise and frustration.
‘I was so...’ you begin, but I cut you off.
‘Shhhh... Open your mouth’. I command and as you hesitantly part your lips I slide my sex covered fingers inside. I hold them there, warm with saliva and the salty taste of your wetness.
‘Our waiter is on the way back with our drinks but the reception back here is terrible and I need to make a call’, I say, slowly beginning to rise.
‘You are to stay like this. Exactly like this. You are not to sit forward. You are not to shift your feet. You are not to reposition your thighs, to smooth down your dress, or shift in any way. Do you understand?’ I ask firmly
With my fingers still in your mouth you nod yes.
‘Our boy waiter will come and place napkins on the table. You are not to move. He will put our martini’s down on those napkins and you will still not move. You will give him this credit card’ I say, placing it into your hand, ‘to pay for the drinks and still you will not move.’
‘You will look into his eyes as he takes the card from you and charges our drinks. And if he smiles at you, you will politely smile back, but you will do nothing to bring your thighs closer together. Even as he looks down at your soaking pussy. Even as you see him adjust his cock in his pants. Even as he thinks about reaching down and touching you. You will stay here like this, without moving until he has finished his work, however slowly he chooses to complete that work, however long he stares, until he is finished and returns to the bar. Do you understand?’
Again you nod yes.
And with that I stand, slowly slide my fingers out of your mouth, and leave you spread wide, exposed and helpless on the sofa.