I make it to the fifteenth floor with a mixture of nerves stemming from my ambivalence. I don’t know how long we’ll have, but I know its far from anything sufficient. As I follow the descending numbers down the corridor, a housekeeping employee is just outside the door. She looks up at me.
“Can I “e-help” you miss?” She asks in a tone conveying certainty that I am in the wrong place.
I smile politely and proceed to his door with a slight tapping, as I can already hear him shuffling about in his room.
The door swings open and he sweeps me in with his large embrace, the door shutting heavy behind. I then get the all too familiar feeling at that exact moment that I am entirely and completely his. He sits down on the bed and takes me in, executing a 360 degree examination of the petite little body within my skintight jeans, black dolman button-down, and black wooden platform heels. He begins to kiss me in that overpowering way of his. He excuses himself for a moment, and I collapse on the bed, gazing up at the stone white ceiling.
When he returns moments later, he gets on the bed, and is suddenly on top of me.
“Are you okay?” He asks tenderly, though still every bit as masculinely intimidating.
I manage to nod while looking completely helpless, atop a feeling of internal comfort.
He resumes the passionate kissing session from moments earlier while cradling me beneath his massive body.
Just as abrupt as it begun, he stops and withdraws. Though still on top just much further away, he looks at me with nothing but seriousness in his face and body language.
“You’ve been smoking” He concludes.
The truth remained that I had in fact smoked a cigarette on my way there, and was aware that I would have to own up to it eventually.
“Yes. I had one on the way here. I’m sorry. I was just so anxious and restless, I couldn’t help it.”
He pulls a chair over and sits down.
“Stand up.” He commands me firmly.
I obey and stand up.
“take your pants off” He then tells me.
With a look as though Ive been betrayed, my expression then turns to terror, as I protest with squealing whines of no, I can’t.
He then begins to unbuckle my belt and pulls my denim down my thighs, to reveal my entire butt. As he bends me over his knees, I begin to protest again. He pulls my charcoal lace panties into an effective “wedgie” to expose my buttocks. I continue to protest. Until he grabs hold firmly. He begins quick, hard slaps alternating buttocks. I feel the shock of whats actually happening far more than the swats themselves.
“How many was that?” He asks, after who the fuck knows how many.
“I didn’t count” I say quietly, much to my own surprise.
“I’m going to start again. Im going to ask you how many”
He begins again, alternating in no specific pattern. He stops and asks how many.
“six” I reply.
He continues, only to stop again, and once again ask how many.
He keeps going until twenty.
He tells me to sit down on the bed.
“I didn’t say you could pull your pants up. Leave them like that.”
So I sit on the bed, with my belt hanging loose, skinny jeans hanging around my thighs, panties hiked up, shirt unbuttoned.