BDSM Library - Owner\'s Demise

Owner\'s Demise

Provided By: BDSM Library
www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: Hotel maids teach The Owner a lesson and give him a treatment he secretly craves.
Tempt Me (2) - Task Report

 

 

 

Fantasies are sometimes things that should've happened. Sometimes they shouldn't  - but we still wish they did - or will. Sometimes it's the stuff that might become true if dreamed about hard enough. Then there are the impossible ones - the really indulgent ones.

 

 And then there are those tailored as offering for someone's pleasure.

 

Here's offering for You..

 

 

 

Owner's Demise

 

By gameboy

 

© 2006 Wolfwerks

 

 

 

The Owner knew why he wanted those wrought iron bedposts in all luxurious exec suites in all of his hotels.

 

 Those bedpost had many interesting functions. And he was utilizing one of those right now. He lay naked, wearing favorite collar, spread-eagled on his bed, shiny steel leg spreader holding his legs apart. Then he tied his legs to bed posts for good measure. And then he cuffed his arm with matching steel cuffs to the post above, wishing he could cuff both his hands. But this was his very own childhood fantasy and he had to do it alone. It was very shh shh and strictly secret. His was just ‘breaking in’ his new hotel.

 

Now he only needed to decide which of the maids he will use in his fantasy this time. The petite, bouncy little thing he saw this morning, redheaded and sharp tongued, dressed in the classy but tiny black silk outfit with starched white lace. He personally picked those for all his hotels. Now, what was her name? Hanna? MMM yes.

 

As he began to stroke the Owner shredded his third-person persona and reverted to his usual first-person self.

 

So …as I stroked and imagined the maid coming in I heard the sound and started, opening my eyes - and the maid was really standing at the door starring incredulously. Not Hanna but, my god, what now what what … And then I just froze pinned by her gaze like a butterfly. She was frozen too and the tableau held and she moved forward, smiling "My, my, I seen a lot of them weirdoes in this stupid hotel but you are da king of 'em…" and she walked around cynically admiring my prostrated form, my twitching cock (and I didn't know what to do with my hand - remove it, try to hide something with it?)

 

She was trying to catch my desperate gaze.

 

"Hey I know you! You da bastard who OWNS the place, right? RIGHT!?" I nodded helplessly. "So you are da fucker who signed everybody's release papers? Letting us GO, you freak! In the middle of the season!!! AND you make us wear this silly outfits, you sick fuck?" She slapped me. Hard. Then she slapped me some more. My eyes watered.

 

"So Mr. Owner, Sir, wanna play with himself? I'll give something. I’ll you the play of yer fucking life! Ya never EVER forget it! Hey Hanna! Haaaanna!"

 

Moments later Hanna rushed in, curious and bouncy, always eager for new experiences, mane of red hair whipping the air. She froze too, but just for the moment. Then she started walking around my naked self, touching the bondage, touching my bare burning skin. "Wow! And wow again. You got ourselves a big catch, Magda!"

 

"Ya know the guy?"

 

"Sure" She grabbed my nipple, squeezed it and hissed in my face. "Mr Big Owner. Trussed like a stupid sausage.  And by his own hand, ha! I read all about your affairs but now I know about the ONLY one of your affairs worth knowing. Yes, the big Owner himself seems very small now. Hey, is that a dog collar? Oh, I know. We’ll teach you what being owned and needing to work for a living REALLY means!"

 

She rushed out and returned with a pink leash of her own poodle. They released me, pushed me down and in no time I was leashed on fours - trembling at the end of Hanna's pink leash. "Ok, dog, off we go - to work!" And she pulled me OUT, in the corridor. She dragged me and some well placed kicks from Magda made me crawl properly like a bad puppy while they laughed and poured insult after insult.

 

I was down on the plush carpet of my own hotel, my skin crawling with shame and humiliation, burning (and I was still thinking about air conditioning!). And I heard other voices. Many of them, many plush voices. Looking up I saw we were headed towards the Conference Hall. Oh, no no that, just not that. ‘Tw’o I can bear  - but, ‘the whole army?’  Hanna noticed, laughed and tugged me on. "Yes you are going right in there. So EVERYBODY will see you for what you are - and in the middle of your own damn hotel." I made a few more drawling steps towards that double door, the voices falling like guillotine blades and I just crumbled, making myself into the tiniest ball on the floor.

 

Hanna squatted beside me. "You are going there, or I'm going to drag you… On the other hand if you try hard to be the most perfect and obedient doggie in the world for me - I might postpone it."

 

I nodded, utterly defeated. I got up and was led to the door of the suite 101. They opened the door and I knew it for the threshold - everything outside was before, everything inside was after and forever. I crawled in.

 

And the fun time began.

 

They put an apron on me. Then they made me clean the whole suite, with just the microscopic washcloth, a clothes brush and a silly long feather duster. They drove me around, kicking, slapping, laughing, goading. Then the closet door 'accidentally' opened and…"Ohmigod looky this - what's all this stuff, Hanna?"

 

"Hmmm She's got really nasty things here. I am sure she got all that at the fancy new Sax shop. Hmmm, let's try THESE!"

 

These, what are … these?’  The swish and the burning pain across my upturned naked ass and the incredible crack sending me forward informed me that THESE were a flogger and the cane.  They drove me across the room with a s-swish swish and a c-crack crack and a hahaha, getting my naked body nicely crisscrossed. Whenever I dropped one of the 'cleaning utensils' they would stop, insist that I pick my 'tool of trade" - and then they would go on whipping the disowned owner to their hearts delight.

 

I was driven towards the bathroom, then in it. Shiny tiles needed cleaning as much as surgeon's scalpel does- but of course I was given a mop and I splashed water around was berated for it. Miss S-swish and Miss C-crack went to work again 'con significante' making me slip, flounder and flail pathetically on the now wet floor. Chastised for being  'a swine wallowing in its own filth' I was made to turn around and exposing new parts of naked flesh for delightful explorations of the crop.

 

"Seems you've worked some sweat? NOW do you know how is it?  In the bathtub. You should cool down.” I clambered in with hands behind my back. Cold surface eased the burning my flogged backside. Cold? Oh no … Hanna returned with a huge bag of crushed ice and just dumped it in. I almost jumped out.  Magda thought it was hilarious. Soon I was shivering and burning all over. They left me.

 

Ah, those quiet moments of contemplation while chattering of teeth echoes around the shiny, spotless edifice (except for the floor I messed up.)

 

Hanna returned, looked me up and down in my misery and said: "You need watering and warming up. And purifying." She climbed in the tub, stood on its edges. "Don't look down. Look at me. Keep your mouth open.  Keep looking in my eyes, dog. You knew all along it was coming. So chin up, eyes up."

 

What did I see in those steely cold and smirking eyes? (Besides the truth about the 'Sun, Moon and The Standing Stones' and X Files)?- the truth about what I am and where I'm going. She watered me, her pee splattering over me, bathing my face, filing my mouth. I had no trouble swallowing - I wanted to gulp it all down. I thought her stream was hissing with heat, but it was probably just deceit of the echoing bathroom.

 

She contemplated me for a while. She then left me to marinate and do my own contemplating.

 

Later, when cold had shrunken me to a size of a pineapple (and my balls to marbles seeking their way

towards the inner heat of my body). Magda came in and used the power nozzles to clean the 'filthy pig', then she drove me back in the suite, still dripping and shivering, angrily admonishing me for 'wetting someone else's carpet'. Hanna was lazing on the sofa and she simply pushed her foot forward. I scurried to it and stared to kiss her shoe.

 

And a kisskiss and a licklick and a soles-not-to-be-omitted and then she pushed me away. I moved towards another foot but Magda kicked me.

 

"Ya need to show respect to everone. Ya don't get to choose no nuthnig', not no more." So I went down - my ass went up - and I started to lick sweat drenched canvas work shoes. All around and a sucksuck the sweat and a kisskiss the carpet around her feet. She never moved them off the ground. Then Hanna gave me some sharp slaps on my ass, I turned, and, surprise!, she is offering her foot again. So quick and a quickquick and a crawcrawl over - she might a snachsnach it away and I don't want to miss the oportunity for a single kisskiss.

 

I spent some quality time crawling between their feet trying to snatch a lick and plant a kiss and they kept moving their feet and kicking me - rough carpet did wonders to welts enmeshing my body, but what's a little pain, what's A LOT of pain. They laughed of course, and comments flew about "owners dirty delight" and ' look at that dumb doggie go..".

 

Next Hanna dangled her shoe from her foot and asked "How bad do you want it? Real bad? Then fetch like a good mutt and I might let you kiss more then my shoe." She swung and kicked her shoe across the room.

 

I ran, I found, I grabbed with my teeth (gently!) I fetched and I offered. "No no, where is the barking happy puppy yelping?" and she uses her toes to launch it again.

 

Yelp Yelp yelp Woof Woof yip yip Woof woof

 

I fetched it again and I offered her shoe (holding it by the heel, sole on my face and forehead). I was waving my tail eagerly (tail? where is my tail? I don't have it and I need it!).  Ok,  so I was waving my IMAGINARY tail waiting for my reward when Magda kicked off HER shoe and I was off after it. Without thinking or reconsidering or whatever dogs do when they see desired object flying away.

 

The ‘run run fetcfetch yelyelp and be-laughed at’ session ensued with as much as three shoes flying around and, "Atta boy get it! How he crawls now! Working some sweet again, are you? You bad dog!" Magda used her shoes to hit me and was delighted at whinnies of pain when the heel dug in my skin. "Bullseye! Now I want ya to turn your arse to me so I can try and score a DOUBLE bullseye! Or a hole. Ha ha.!"

 

When I was almost exhausted, salty sweat biting my eyes, and still no reward except opportunity to hold and sniff all those shoes, Magda stood up and gathered her shoes. "We gotta split, hon. SHE is coming back and she owns this apartment, remember. We do not want to piss her off, oh no.! If SHE finds out we been messing around her place - I don't  wanna even think about it!"

 

"Then we shall leave her an offering. She'll like that I think." Hanna went to the magic closet and came with the ropes.

 

They trussed me in the chair. Kneeling, legs spread and tied to armrests, naked feet dangling over, offered. My hands were tied to rear legs, stuffing my head into backrest padding and forcing my red ass high up. The most offensive organ was dangling down, helplessly exposed and untouchable. (The days of free bondage and free play are over.) Hanna pated the doggie on the head, promising to play with me some other time. They moved the chair so that my backside was pointed to the door and left.

 

Waiting.

 

Bathed in sweat.

 

Waiting.

 

Shivering  with pain.

 

Waiting.

 

Cramping.

 

Waiting.

 

Shivering even more with fear and anticipation of who might open the door.

 

Waiting.

 

Burning with humiliation - imagining how I will look to a stranger who will surely enter the room. Waiting.

 

Discovering that I can move my head a little and peek towards the corner.

 

Some heavy kid leather suitcase are there. And something seems to be burned in the leather.

 

A brand?

 

Straining to see. Yes brands. Two vertical strokes, one diagonal. Looks like - N. A vertical stroke. I? Vertical stroke and two diagonal ones meeting in the middle. Can it be - K? Vertical …

 

Door opening. Steps of doom coming in. Steps of the true owner coming to a stop.  Shaking like a dry leaf I want to jump out of my skin but I can't so I just  take in HER presence I feel

 

"Oh how nice. Looks like a present for me …"

 

 

 

THE BEGINNING?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Review This Story || Email Author: Wolffie



MORE BDSM STORIES @ SEX STORIES POST