Silken Savages by ChromeCollar
She sits in her car. Trembling. Trying in vain to steady her breathing. The myriad decisions that led her to this point in time is playing like a ticker tape in her mind. Fingers gripping the steering wheel as she heaves a long breath.
The car door opens, and she steps out. Each footstep towards the hotel entrance is heavy. Leaden. The clerk greets her warmly as she enters the lobby, but she does not acknowledge him. She is in an entirely different universe in her head. She knows the room number. He told her when he summoned her to him. His instructions were explicit.
“Room 117. Be here no earlier than 3pm and no later than 4:15pm. No perfume. I want to smell you, and only you. Wear the plaid skirt. Black thong. The black heels. A white blouse. No bra. Bring nothing else.”
His voice had been dangerously quiet on the phone. She recalls it word for word as she moves into the hallway. The click of her heels is subdued on the dull carpet. The silence is roaring in her head.
A high flush on her cheeks indicates how excited she is. How terrified. She comes to the room door and turns to face it with agonizing slowness. A tremor runs down the entire length of her body and a small whimper escapes her throat. As she raises her hand to knock gently on the door it swings open.
He stands there in all his savage violent glory. She can see that his breathing is also elevated. His eyes look dangerous. Brimming with thoughts and emotions she is unable to articulate. Her traitorous eyes fill with tears, and she dashes at them in frustration. She cannot look upon him any longer. Her gaze slides sideways to fasten upon the floor.
The silence between them is laden. Fire on her cheeks. Fire between her legs. Fire blazing in her heart and soul. An endless and unquenchable hunger burning in the pit of her stomach. The tears roll down her face and careen to the floor. Small noises in her throat that quell when he utters one sentence.
“Take my hand Princess.”
Her eyes dart up to focus on that extended hand. Strong. Big. Capable of holding her cautious heart in trust or crushing it to pulp. Everything has hinged on this moment in time. Every action. Every hope. Every desire.
She reaches for his hand, clasping it with quiet desperation. He wraps his fingers around hers and pulls her easily into the room and into his embrace. The door clicks shut behind her.
The smell of him surrounds her. Permeates her defenses. Overwhelms her inhibitions. Banishes her indecision. His hands move up to fist in her hair, gripping her close. His hot mouth is against her neck. She can hear how ragged his breathing is and she is unable to swallow the whimper that answers his need.
Teeth nip her skin, and she goes weak at the knees. Her hands grip his shoulders as he assaults her neck with ferocious hunger. He’s guiding her step by step, but she is blind to all but the brilliance of him. They are moving backwards slowly. He’s growling. She’s moaning. Whispering his name over and over in the dim twilight of the generic room.
Something bumps against the back of her knees. His hands leave her hair, and she is abruptly pushed backwards, falling into a chair. She looks up at him with panting desire, the tears still wet upon her cheeks. With one smooth motion he pulls his shirt off, dropping it behind him on the floor.
One hand fists again in her hair, pulling on it painfully. Holding her head perfectly still. His other hand lowers to unbuckle the leather belt at his waist. He jerks at it forcefully until it loosens and hangs down. She licks her lips, wetting them. Staring at that open invitation. His hand holds her pinned in the chair and she growls with hungry frustration.
When she reaches forward tentatively, he slaps her across the face. A quick hard slap that leaves her cheek stinging. She jerks back against the hand in her hair and is given no release. He holds her steady. She can see the outline of his arousal in the denim, and it drives her more than a little mad. Drool is pooling in her cheeks and her tongue wets her lips repeatedly. She needs to taste him. To drown in his arousal. He slaps her again, leaving her ears ringing.
“Ask nicely for permission, Princess,” he snarls.
Her mouth opens and a torrent of begging flows forth unbidden. She is a little taken aback by how desperate she sounds. She pleads as she looks between his glowering eyes and the outline encased in denim. With a snort of amusement, his hand releases her hair, and she is on him.
A woman starved for the first morsel of food she’s had in an eternity. Her hands are shaking as she tugs the button loose. Pulling the flap back she leans in and inhales deeply. The warm musky male scent of him pours over her like liquid fire. A tiny lick to the trail of hair leading from his navel down is the last nail in the coffin of her control.
She pulls his boxers down and moans wantonly when his cock springs forth, engorged and dripping. She slips out of the chair and hits the floor on her knees before him, hands curling around the back of his thighs. His cock pulses and she nuzzles her face against it. Rubs her cheeks and forehead all over it. Covering her visage in his scent and precum.
A sharp jerk in her hair brings her back to reality. He shakes her again and she obediently opens her mouth, tongue reaching to lap up the strand of precum oozing from the tip. How long has she waited to taste this? How many times has she fantasized about the feel of him pushing into her throat? A thousand? A hundred thousand?
He allows her a moment to savor the salty precum on the tip of her tongue and then pushes in. Past the back of her mouth and spearing towards her throat. She gags. She struggles, and gags again. He pins her with both of his strong hands against each side of her head. The gags are exciting him. The struggles urge him forward.
Her eyes gaze up at him in adoration as he pushes himself into her mouth relentlessly. Spit flows freely down her chin as she fights the urge to gag what little she ate this morning around his persistently thrusting cock. Her throat is tight around the head of his cock as he crams what he can as deep as he can into her mouth. Every gag is like a vice and her struggles delight him. Her tear-filled eyes a brilliant green are locked on him. Silently pleading for mercy. He has no mercy to give but his first liquid gift to her will be in another hole.
With great reluctance he reigns himself in and withdraws from her, stepping back. She lists forward in his sudden absence, her hands braced on the floor. She huddles there for a moment, gasping. Trying to regain some composure. Trying to refrain from crawling forward in humiliation to beg for more. His cock twitches in the cool air, sending a long strand of precum down to splatter on the cheap filthy carpet.
“Did you do what I asked you to do Princess? Are you all clean and ready for Daddy?” he murmurs lovingly.
She nods, gazing up at him from beneath tear spiked lashes. He takes her hand and pulls her to her feet. She is propelled to the bed, and he removes her blouse. He bends down and bites one of her breasts. Hard enough to leave a vivid red imprint of his teeth. She yelps and he snarls. Control is waning.