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Stephanie

"The Hotel Anthology"

a series of short stories by Robin Roberts


My Hotel Room • "Furniture" • My Massage • Room Service • The Banquet Room • Room Service 2 • In The Hallway • The Laundry room • The Garage


(Also see The EMF Trust)


My Massage
by Robin Roberts

It was about four o'clock, and I had finished with all of my appointments for the day, so I drove back to my room at The Hotel. I had been here almost a week and was still in awe at the courtesy and politeness of everyone on the Staff.

I picked up the phone to have a bottle of wine delivered when I noticed that number for Room Service (#77) was only one digit away from Personal Services (#76). Odd, by I hadn't given "Personal Services" as a title much thought until now. With no small amount of curiosity, I picked up the phone and punched up the number for Personal Services. After only one full ring, a very melodious female voice answered with, "Personal Services, this is Helen. How may I direct your call?" Now I was stuck. "Helen, this is Room 124. I noticed that your number is listed on the front of my phone, but I have no idea what kind of 'personal services' you offer or render."

"Well, Sir, we are here to provide any service you desire, no matter how big or small, anytime, day or night. Your wish is, quite literally, my command. There are no limitations placed upon your requests, other than the availability of Staff personnel to carry out your desires. We are very discreet, and no one will ever know what you have asked. We want to make sure that your stay with us is everything you may have dreamed it would be."

Now I was stuck. "Ummm, if I were to ask for something a little out of the ordinary, you could fulfill it?"

"Yes, Sir. There is nothing you could ask for that would shock me. Any request can be satisfied if we are given enough time and resources for us to put it together," was the immediate answer from the handset.

My mind went blank, and my mouth and tongue quit functioning: I was speechless. A voice wakes me from my somnambulistic trance, and after a moment of mental babbling and total brain shutdown, I muttered, "I would like a massage."

Helen asked if I had any preferences. I was almost afraid to make specific requests. Helen said I would have someone at my door in moments. She was right about that. It seemed as though the person outside my door had been listening in to my conversation with Helen, and was just waiting for me to hang up the phone so she could ring the doorbell to my suite. (In hindsight, that probably is wrong. My body just wasn't functioning, so I hadn't noticed the passage of time!) The female who was on the other side of the door was wearing what looked like leotards, a short skirt, heels and a collar.

Attached to the collar was a pendant embossed with Stephanie. She was attractive: just the right amount of make-up, brown hair pulled back off her face, and I would guess her age to be in her low-twenties. She was carrying a portable massage table and an overnight bag. Stephanie stepped past me and into my room, and with a very deft movement, opened the table, placed a sheet on top of it and patted the top of it, indicating that I was to lay on top of it. When I made no movement, she came to attention, looked at me and asked if I preferred "a straight, dominant or submissive massage."

I told her that I was dominant, but that I didn't know the difference between the three as types of massage. She replied that since I didn't know, she would start with a straight massage, but at any time I desired, it would be okay to change. Not wanting to get myself in over my head (and not wanting to look like a complete fool) I told Stephanie that I was interested in a straight massage.

She had me lay on a massage table, face down and she began her magic fingers routine. During the 60-minute massage, we discussed just everything. She told me about her "escapades" as a submissive masseuse. Her clients would have her start a massage, and then have her bound and gagged by the end of the hour. I asked her what she enjoyed most when giving a massage. She must have spent twenty minutes describing how one of her clients had blindfolded and gagged her; placed her ankles in hobble-cuffs and had tied a rope around her neck as a leash. Since she was sightless, he guided her hands and her body for about the first half-hour. He then tied her wrists together behind her back, removed the gag, and had her lick all the massage oil from every part of his body and then use her long hair to dry his body. I thought that this was an excellent idea and that I would have to try it personally. She said that she would like to do the same, but it would have to be another time: our hour was up.

I wrapped a bath towel around my waist and sat on the bed. I called "Personal Services" and requested an extension of our time together. I looked around the room for something to bind, blindfold or gag her. She noticed my explorations and said, "All of the masseuses here at the hotel have a personal carry bag that contains the various body and massage oils and toys for any unusual requests for our guests." She opened the bag and almost reverently placed each item on the bed. In a very breathless voice, she describes each item and its use.

After a quick glance, I told her that I knew the name of each piece and its various uses.

The bathroom has a walk-in shower, and a hot-tub. I order Stephanie to start the shower. She tests the water temperature, removes her clothes and kneels on the bath mat. I enter the room and blindfold her. I take her hand, step into the shower and pull her in behind me. I arrange the angle of the shower head, so I point the water at my shoulder blades. I take the bottle of shampoo from the shelf and hand it to her. She washes me with the soap - I also "lathered up" from her handiwork. After I rinse off, I take her hands and place them on the shower wall. Using my feet, I indicate that she should spread her feet apart. I take a handful of soap so I can wash her body, and it is now her turn to get "lathered up." I start at her neck and start washing every part of her body. When I get to her butt, I instruct her to spread her legs further so I can wash between her legs. My hands explore those places ordinarily covered by panties and her breathing rate increases. I stop abruptly and order her to put her feet together. I take each foot and bend her leg so I can wash her soles and between her toes. Her body shudders as she climaxes.

I use the portable shower head and rinse off her body. She is ordered to turn her body, back to the wall. I decide to have a little fun. I move her hands, so they are above her head and tell her to hold that position. I continue to rinse the soap from her body. My feet urge her to open her legs. She assumes the perfect Eiffel Tower position. I clean her thighs, but as I get to the top of her thighs, I shift the shower head to a pulsating stream of water. As I am making sure all of the soap is gone, her breathing rate escalates. She is on the verge of an orgasm, and I tell her, "Not yet, Stephanie."

A short time passes, and she is begging to be allowed to finish and again I tell her to wait. A few moments more and she is offering to give me absolutely anything that I might desire. I, being a nice person, grant permission. I have to grab her around the waist to prevent her collapsing to the floor.

A few moments pass as she regains her bearings. Her brain finally recognizes which direction is up. She is attempting to get to her knees and puts her arms around my waist. Somehow, she suddenly is licking and kissing my groin. A few moments later, I repeat her performance: rapid breathing, weak knees, convulsing body, and the fear of passing out.

She removes the blindfold and turns the water to rinse me off. She turns the water off and reaches for bath towels. She silently dries my body, her head bowed. She wraps the towel around my waist, and I am guided to the other room and indicates that I should lay on the bed.

She has pulled the bed spread over us, and she is laying on the bed next to me.

I decided that Stephanie and I would have to get together again as soon as possible. I will call "Personal Services" and book two hours with Stephanie for the day after tomorrow. That would be more than enough time for me to get to a hardware store for some "goodies" before our next meeting.

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