Motel 7 · Part 1 (1/2)
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Part One
Al, already naked, finished tying his ankles securely to the legs of the sofa and pulled himself to his feet. He clipped the short piece of clothesline, already snugly knotted around his ballsack, to a clock weight resting on the seat cushion. He had measured the rope carefully, and there were precisely three inches of slack.
He pulled himself up and packed his mouth with a carefully-selected pair of his wife’s panties, fresh out of the hamper and not fresh – just what he wanted. They were full-fashioned cotton bloomers- good for mouth packing and jacking off, but poor fantasy material.
Maybe one of these years she’s try on one of his gifts from Victoria’s
Secret, but Al wasn’t hopeful.
He wrapped a
3”-wide Ace bandage snug around his head, packing the panties deep in his mouth, and carefully clipped the loose end to the rest of the bandage with the little metal clip. After taking a deep breath and exhaling to savor the scent which now filled his lungs, he made a few muffled cries for help; nothing came out except gurgles, which was just what he wanted. The scent and his imagination were reflected in his erection.
Bending
‘way over the sofa, he slipped over his head the loop of rope which was securely fastened to the base of the sofa. (He knew better than to use a slip knot- he didn’t want to strangle himself.) Al reached down for a piece of cord and gave it a sharp tug; the clock weight rolled off the cushion and its weight fell sharply on his balls. Ouch! He knew what his balls must look like- a deep red inside the sack of tightly-stretched skin, bulging roundly with the load of sperm he and they desperately wanted to send spurting down his cock.
He reached to his side and grabbed a waiting pair of handcuffs. With a sharp CLACK CLACK
CLACK, his wrists were irretrievably locked together. The keys were nowhere in sight.
Almost reflexively, he struggled for his freedom, testing his bonds. He was trapped- his work had been careful and carefully planned. He finally sagged against the sofa and waited for his wife to return home. On the outside of the door leading to the garage was a note for his wife, the keys to his handcuffs taped to it:
Carla
– I have a surprise package waiting for you in the living room. Won’t you join me for some fun and games?
About an hour later, Al heard Carla’s car enter the garage. He heard the car door close, the sound of footsteps on concrete, and then silence for what seemed like an hour.
Beside being helplessly bound, Al was incredibly horny, and to top it all off he was scared witless. Carla had made herself clear on several other occasions that she wanted no part of his demented fantasies, and Al was giving it one last try before… he wasn’t sure before what. He just waited.
Finally the door opened, and there was silence before Carla addressed him in an angry shriek which must have been audible downtown: “YOU SICK DEMENTED PERVERT! Haven’t I told you time and time again that I want absolutely nothing to do with your filthy unholy games?” She brusquely unlocked his handcuffs and continued:
”This is so far over the line I can’t believe it. I’m going to the church to talk with Sister Carmelita. When I come home in two hours, I want you gone and out of my life for the remainder of eternity!”
The door slammed. While Al hastily released himself, his aching erection only a memory, he heard the garage door open before the car blasted out and down the street. He had been down this road before, and while he wasn’t packed, he knew just what to do.
In one hour and forty-five minutes, his car was loaded with most of his necessities of his life and he was on the road. Thirty minutes later, the young lady at the front desk of the Old Sacramento Motel 7 was handing him the key to 238. “Easy to remember- 2 cubed is 8!”, Al remarked brightly to the lady, who just smiled dimly.
After he finished carrying his stuff to his room, Al surveyed the room carefully. The whole motel had been recently remodeled; the room still smelled a bit of fresh paint, and the screen of the TV was squeaky clean. Al reached into the bag he had picked up at the Del Paso Safeway and withdrew a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon. Then he turned on HBO and, with a short prayer of thanks to God for inventing alcohol, proceeded to drown his sorrow.
Fortunately for this story line, this was not to be another three-day bender- Al had learned something through the years, and he spent Saturday perusing the rolling stock at the Union Pacific Railroad museum- something which he had always wanted to do but Carla just didn’t enjoy that kind of stuff.
After a cheap but adequate dinner at Del Taco ($9 including a soda), Al drove out to a boutique he knew- an adults-only place, which carried an astonishing array of videos. All of them were DVDs- it seemed cassettes had gone the way of the dodo bird.
Fortunately, Al had brought his computer- reasonable enough, since he would go back to his usual job of being a software engineer on Monday. His computer, on top of having the usual goodies necessary to high-tech work, had a DVD player and a 19” TFT monitor.
Al had selected three promising-looking features and took them up to the counter, where a smiling sweet young thing rang up his purchase, not batting an eye as she went through his selection of hard-core, filthy, woman-degrading pornography. At least that’s how Carla referred to it. (Carla had never gotten close enough to
Al’s perversions to notice that it wasn’t the women who got degraded, but Al had given up trying to explain that.)
While he was waiting, a dancer from the attached nudie joint strolled through, picking out a
G-string. She was wearing only filmy nylon shorts (like the cut-off top of pantyhose) and a tiny cut-off T-shirt- stuff she could take off quickly. Al returned her cheery smile but continued on with his plans for the night. He knew what enthusiastically-jiggling flesh looked like- hell, even Carla jiggled; he had other ideas and needs.
Back in his new home, Al booted his PC (which he knew down to the last nut and bolt- he took it apart and rebuilt it for fun) and tossed in the only ‘straight’ porn DVD of the trio. He’d made a good choice, though- it was hot, and so was Al!
Keeping in touch with the sexsational action on the screen, Al made his preparations for the night’s action, starring Al, of course, and his fantasy Mistress who shall remain unnamed. First off, he pulled out his Swiss Army knife and cut a length of rope from one of three coils. He passed one end under the bed, making sure that both ends met on top of the bed and left a pile of ‘binding material’ in the middle. Then he used a short length of rope to fasted a pair of ankle cuffs to the center of the footboard of the bed, leaving the cuffs on the quilt for the moment.
Grabbing a roll of kite string, Al stood on the bed and tied one end to the room’s light fixture. He cut the piece just long enough so that when he tied his keys to the free end of the cord, the keys would dangle on the mattress. After double-checking the knots, Al hopped down cautiously (he was on the second floor and didn’t want to irritate anybody who might be below) and went to his luggage for his trusty ‘ice timer’.
Al snapped the timer, basically just a steel ring half an inch in diameter attached to a plastic strap, to the shower curtain rod. He took a nylon stocking (one of
Carla’s, a sturdy no-nonsense style from Wal-Mart) and stuffed three ice cubes from the motel’s ice maker into the foot end. No, five… no, six, since some of it would melt while he finished his preparations. He threaded the top end through the ring and pulled it down until the ice jammed against the ring. Then he locked a 10” Vise-Grip (model number 10WR, an incredibly useful tool and handy weight) to the hanging end of the stocking. The wrench was much heavier than the ice, of course, and kept the ice jammed up against the ring.
Next, he tied a piece of the kite string to the cord which held the keys; the other end he tied to the wrench. The cord was short enough so the keys now hung not over the bed but about a foot to the side, far out of his reach in his planned position.
When the ice melted and the stocking pulled through the ring, the weight of the wrench would pull loose the knot and release the keys. Al had used this many times while Carla was away- it was about as foolproof as the laws of thermodynamics.
returned to his ‘toy chest’ and withdrew another rope- ¼” sisal, carefully cut to precise length through many uses. Some places recommended not using sisal, he thought because it was itchy and left massive red marks in the skin, but he really didn’t care about welts- nobody would ever see them.
Nobody except Carla ever saw rigidly-faithful Al naked outside of a locker room, and now not even her….
He put the center of the rope, long ago marked with a red felt-tip, on the center of his chest just below his shoulders and passed the two ends behind himself. He switched hands on the strands and looped them around himself, this time below his breasts, raising the strands so they crossed between his breasts.
He continued this looping and crossing process, essentially winding a figure-8 rope bra for himself. As he made loop after loop, the rope compressed his rib cage and made breathing a bit difficult. It also pressed the meat of his chest into a marvelous and very sensitive part of boobs! Al carefully tied the rope in a square knot behind his back and checked out his reflection in the mirror as he strummed his nipples- not a bad babe, except for the beard!
Okay, time to get down to brass tacks, whatever those were.
Al pulled out a favorite ball gag- a rubber ball from the kiddies department of the grocery store knotted into the center of another of Carla’s stockings which he’d cut to fit, with a steel ring on one end of the stocking and an S-hook on the other.
He wedged the ball deep into his mouth and clipped the S-hook onto the ring. He tried to call for help, as always, and was rewarded only with an even more eager hard-on. (Is that really an ‘only’?)
Thinking of the hard-on, Al reached out for a ball-stretcher- a leather strap an inch and a half wide which went around his ball-sack and pressed his testicles down firmly.
This resulted in an even more pronounced erection, which Al surrounded with two latex condoms. This gave an almost pussy-like feeling of compression and helped him keep his hard-on during the inevitable slow spots in the entertainment.
picked up a thick rubber O-ring and rolled it down over the latex-sheathed head of his cock. Once it slipped down over his flared head, it was a snug slip fit all the way down the shaft of his cock until he pressed it firmly down at the base. He could see head of his cock, an angry dark red even through two layers of nylon.
Al retrieved a new length of rope, more sisal (3/8”- strong enough for suspension games) from Home Depot. He tied one end around his legs just above his ankles and proceeded to wind the entire length around his legs until he cinched the other end most of the way up his thighs
Things were coming down to the wire now. Al dragged himself to his PC (with the carpet thoroughly and enjoyably beating up his distended nipples in the process) and ejected the DVD, replacing it with “Mistresses Yolanda and Victoria degrade
Slave Martin”. He was familiar with the crew that made this video, and they did hot stuff. He started the video and dragged himself (the dragging and the accompanying degradation was difficult but exciting) back to the bed for his final preparations.
Al heaved himself onto the bed and caught his breath for a moment. Then he reached out for a pair of handcuffs and slipped them through the ropes crossing between his
‘new’ breasts, leaving them dangling there for the moment.
He scooted down to the foot of the bed, bent double, and- after a last cautious look around, as the keys were deliberately out of his reach- locked his ankles into the cuffs. Then he reached out for the rope which ran under the bed and wrapped it firmly around his waist twice before he tied the ends behind his back.
Al laid back against a pile of pillows (the better to see the PC monitor screen) and locked his wrists into the handcuffs- this held them close to his chest, where his arms kept rubbing his sensitive nipples. (Whenever he showered, he used a loofa sponge vigorously, removing any dead skin to leave his skin sensitive.) He struggled and squirmed, just to test his bonds, and found that everything was just fine- he was helpless.
SHIT! Al’s eye fell on the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, which hung on the inside of the door. Damn- he’d forgotten to put it out! He struggled desperately for a minute or two before he gave up. Well, with any luck the ice would melt and he’d be free long before the maids showed up- the six ice cubes ought to melt down enough in maybe an hour.
Part Two
Indra pushed her housekeeping cart along the second-floor walkway, trying to keep her mind from giving way to the tide of depression which seemed inevitable to one faced with all the career potential of a hotel maid. Fuck shit… Indra would never have said that when she arrived from her native Pakistan as a teenager, but it was but one of many unworthy things she had picked up along the way through a not-particularly-gentle life.
She started with room 230, a corner unit on the second floor. She knocked on the door, paused for fifteen seconds, and then opened the door. “Housekeeping!”, she called in her light and slightly-accented voice. When she heard nothing, she entered and began the ritual of cleaning the room in as little time as possible.
Crap… this one had been used by a local couple, and she hated cleaning up the cum-coated sheets. Part of her displeasure was envy- she hadn’t had her legs in the air for a year, at least not with a man between them.
Some of the girls had told her that they ‘forgot’ when young couples were checked in, and when they stepped into the room they loved the frantic flurry of activity as the naked bodies scurried about, bare breasts and penises and underwear flying as they ducked for cover in incredible embarrassment. Indra had never been so lucky, but a girl can fantasize, can’t she?
Finished with
230, Indra moved on to 232, 234, and 236, just as she had so many times before.
Tap, tap, tap…. “Housekeeping!”
Bob’s blood froze in his veins, and then he realized the maid was next door. He had maybe five minutes to free himself before he was once again exposed as the pervert he was. He jerked and pulled, but the cuffs were inescapable. The keys hung motionless where he had hung them, far out of reach.
Maybe if he rolled off the bed? No, the ankle cuffs kept his feet up against the footboard, and the rope around his waist made him give up any hope of rolling off the bed.
That was by design, of course. He was on the verge of exhaustion when he finally gave up and lay back.
Tap, tap, tap…. “Housekeeping!” As usual, Indra counted off 15 seconds to respectfully allow anybody sleeping to wake enough to respond. She heard nothing, so she unlocked the door, pushed it wide open, and backed in, pulling her cart after her.
She turned around and her heart leaped into her throat. A man was tied up on the bed! A naked man! A desperately struggling naked man! A desperately struggling naked man tied to the bed in an overtly sexual position!
Indra’s heart slowly slid back to its normal position between her breasts, and an idea began to take shape in her mind. A maid she might be, but Indra wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination either innocent or stupid. She was both well-educated and had ‘been around the block’ several times in her 38 years.
Indra closed the door quietly, locked the deadbolt, and quickly stepped to the bed. Leaning over, she asked “Are you all right? Are you in trouble?” Al calmed slightly at her voice and nodded his head in the negative.
She smiled gently, her imagination turning over ideas. She’s heard about guys who checked into hotel rooms to play kinky games, but she’d just heard about them, and deep in her mind she thought they were just tales the girls made up to break the boredom. Well, it looked like she was going to have her own story to tell now!
Indra smiled reassuringly at him and said “Don’t worry, Sir, you’re in good hands with
Indra… yes, that’s my name, Indra. You don’t want me to let you go, do you?” Again Al shook his head, negatively and vigorously. Indra smiled again, straightened up, and stepped to the door. She took the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign
Al had forgotten, hung it on the outside, and closed and double-locked the door- another thing Al had forgotten.
Motel 7 · Part 1 (1/2)
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