I actually feel bad on one side that I’m breaking up this story, but my inner sadist is rubbing her hands together and cackling in glee – I’m sure John Brownstone would be proud. Feel free to follow along with the story guys, or wait until it’s complete and then pick and choose what commands you wish to follow.
Upon entering the room you’ve been assigned, the door locks behind you. Testing the doorknob doesn’t do a thing. You’re locked in. There’s no escape, unless you say the safe word. But where’s the fun in that? You signed up for an adventure and now you’ve arrived. Glancing around, you’re truly impressed. A large kitchen and dining area, a full living room with smart television, a balcony. The furnishings are superb. Turning down the hall leads you to the master suite. A large tub with jets greets you when you peek in the bathroom. Separate shower, too. You take some time to settle in and unpack.
As you wander around checking things out, you notice the cameras. At first, you’re a little uneasy, but you remind yourself that it’s going to be fun and light and – the best part of all – a learning experience. Something different, new, exciting.
When a friend mentioned the filthy new hotel in the area that caters to freaks, your inner kinkster had to know all about it. Living the vanilla life wasn’t meant for a rocky road type person, but here you are, doing just that. None of your friends at work have any idea just how naughty you really are and it’s rare that you get to unleash the beast.
After all the research, review reading, and more research, you finally felt it was worth shelling out the dough to go to a kink-minded location that will allow you to be free. To spread your kinky legs and let enticing things ensue.
The room is warm, a little too warm. Once you locate the thermostat, you frown a bit. 78 degrees is a bit high, even with the open kitchen and living room layout. Then you read the little sign under the lockbox. “The room is cozy warm so that you can walk around naked. This is your first order. Strip.”
A ripple of excitement barrels through you as you do exactly that. Off comes the shirt, off comes the pants. To damnation with underwear! The socks are gone. You pick everything up and put them in the bag for cleaning, then set it by the locked door.
You still feel a little too warm and decide ice water is the way to go. Heading for the kitchen to get a cool drink, you open the cabinet and grab a glass. After filling it with ice, you open the fridge to get a bottle of water. There, you find another note. “Still too hot? Use ice to cool off. No water for you. Grab an ice cube and rub it around your nipples, down your chest, then your cock.”
Grabbing an ice cube, you study it. It’s too small really to do what you’re told, so you pop it into your mouth and fish out a larger cube. While sucking on the cube, you touch the other to your nipple. At first, it’s intense. Between the heat of the room and the freezing touch of the ice, you’re not sure if you’re sweating or shivering, but orders are orders.
The ice in your mouth melts too quickly, so you tip the glass up and suck another between your lips. Switching nipples, you continue following orders. After all, that’s why you’re here. You set down the glass and reach in for another cube. If you’re going to torment yourself, using an ice cube on each nipple is the way to go. Muscles tighten at the cold engulfing your nerves but the intensity is wonderful.
When you can’t take it anymore, you spread out the discomfort by running the ice down your torso, along the sensitive areas of your stomach, along your hips and down your thighs. Are you ready for a more sensitive area?
The television turns on all by itself, interrupting your naughty self-torture. When you turn to it, you see yourself on the screen, ice cubes poised over your skin. Tossing the two cubes into the sink, you grab the glass full of ice and a kitchen towel, then head over to the sofa a few steps away. Sitting on the towel, you resume teasing yourself with the ice cubes. Sucking on one, letting it stick out of your lips when you turn it around. Two others you rub against your skin, leaving wet trails behind.
Your mind is running while you watch yourself on the screen. Who else is watching? What will happen next? Will there be more orders coming? Where will they come from? How will you respond when they do?
The coffee table hums in front of you, it starts to shift and a little screen pops out. Text appears on the black background. You haven’t touched your cock with the ice cubes yet. What are you waiting for?
What are you waiting for? Ice is cold and everyone knows what happens when you apply cold to cock and balls. But you want to please your anonymous masters. Steeling yourself, you slowly adjust your position on the couch. You want to make sure they can see everything. Once you check that your privates are clearly visible on the big screen, you take the ice cubes and run them along the shaft of your cock. Not being as sensitive as the head, it’s still a form of torment.
Breathing deep, you run an ice cube around the head of your cock. It’s exhilarating and too much all at once. Enough so, that you drop the other ice cube right on your balls. It doesn’t take but a few moments for that ice cube to melt, but the twitches take a little longer to wear off.
A bell rings. Just a tinkling. More text appears on the screen. Please use your favorite lube to stroke your cock, but do not come.
That’s when you notice the lovely basket sitting on the table next to you. Pulling it over, you unwrap the bow and mesh netting to find lube, condoms, and a butt plug. All your favorites. You did a really good job being honest on the form. Honesty was encouraged in order to give you the best experience possible, after all.
Oiling up, you stroke yourself. The television view changes, zooming in on your cock and hand as you work yourself until you’re fully hard and on the edge. Drops appear, pearl in color, sliding down the shaft, but just a little. You’re still there, on that edge. Permission hasn’t been granted. Glancing at the screen that appeared out of the coffee table, you read another message.
Keep stroking. You’re entertaining other guests right now. They’re about ready to come. Just like you.
The television breaks up into multiple screens and you see both men and women masturbating. A groan erupts as you try so hard not to come. Are you allowed to beg? Will they hear you if you beg? Are you begging now?
The bell rings again. More text, but this time it’s on both the little screen and the television.
You stroke yourself once, twice more, but the text flashes and turns red. Now you remember the punishment list where you checked off the punishments you were willing to take if you disobeyed. Were you ready to be held down, hog-tied, spanked, or the hardest to endure, wear a cage? Those weren’t the only punishments you’d marked, either. There were others they could pick from.
You pause and let your cock go, wondering if the others had to stop as well.