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"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)

Room Service II
by Robin Roberts

It was the morning of the second day at the hotel. I woke up from fascinating dreams which had grown from the seeds of my previous night's visit to the banquet room. I lay in bed with visions of Stephanie bound to the desk/cross from the night before, her body responding to a whip in my hand. She was trying to be silent and stoic, but I could tell she was about to give me absolutely anything that I might desire. Stephanie has now morphed into a new vision: she is now chained to cross only three feet tall. She is kneeling, her arms spread wide as if in supplication and her knees are about a foot apart, her ankles crossed and bound. Her head is held stationary to the cross by a series of straps. She is looking at the ceiling. Her mouth is held open by a ring gag attached to the harness, and she is begging in a garbled voice to please me.

The smell of coffee permeates the room. Coffee? Where the hell are the coffee vapors emanating? I look around for the source of the "coffee interruptus". It is then that I awake and see Stephanie pulling a silver cart with breakfast on it. She walks to the middle of the room with hampered, mincing steps restricted by a sixteen-inch chain attached to her ankle cuffs. She has a peculiar gait which is designed to keep the chain taut at all times. Leather restraints on her wrists hold her hands behind her. Her elbows are touching because of additional cuffs just above and below her elbows. She is wearing an all black ensemble of panties, bra, heels with stockings and a garter belt. Somehow, the head harness from my earlier dream is locked in place, ring gag and all.

There is a small placard on the cart similar to the one from dinner last night. It is telling me that her name was Stephanie, that I should punish her if her service were not up to my standards and that I should also let the hotel staff know.

I decide to disconnect her from the cart so I could watch her face instead of her backside, although her ass is definitely something to behold. A short bar connects the cart to the belt around her waist. The placard also describes how to disconnect Stephanie from the cart and transform it into a table. The bar has a ferrule with a quick disconnect link keeping it in a fixed position on it. The other end has a swivel attached to a belt around her waist. As I uncouple it, I explore the belt around her waist. As I had expected, another piece ran between her thighs. As my hand examines it, she wobbles a bit, and a small moan escapes her gagged mouth. I discover that the belt holds two internal devices in place and a little more exploration reveals their controls. I find another control box that looks like a television remote on the side of the belt. As I remove it from the belt and start turning it over and over, Stephanie's eyes went very, VERY large but she remained still and quiet. I decide I will have to explore the little button-covered box later.

Following the instructions on the placard, I swing a leaf from the table to a horizontal position and then the support brace to keep it place. I repeat the steps on the other side of the table.

I rinse my hands in the sink of the kitchenette and order her to stand with her back to the wall. Breakfast consists of ham and cheese omelet, coffee, orange juice, toast and several dishes of various condiments. As I consume my morning meal, my eyes explore and devour her body as well. I find it difficult to eat because the vision before me keeps interrupting the instructions from my brain to move my eating utensils. The taste of my breakfast was, I think, excellent. It is problematic to remember because the view was spectacular.

As I was returning the table was being its previous state, I noticed that Stephanie was trying to say something. I removed the ring gag and motioned that she might speak. She politely reminded me that I was doing "slave work" and begged that she "might" be released to do her assigned tasks. Now comes a quandary - free her from her bondage to clean up, or chide her for being over zealous. I remind her that the Master decides what shall or shall not be slaves work.

With head bowed, she whispers, "Yes, Master. May I speak?"

"Go ahead," I respond.

"I realize that I am being presumptuous, but I have a request. I wish to be your slave/escort/consort for your stay here at the hotel. I have already asked Mistress Joanne if I might, and she said yes. I especially look forward to spending time with you, giving you massages and taking showers with you."

I tell her that I had already made arrangements to meet with Billie and Terry later in the day. They were a couple that I had met in college, and they had interests in bondage and fetish attire similar to my own.

"Master, if you so desire, I can go with you, and you can show them how you treat an obedient slave. I have several fetish outfits I could wear, and I would be pleased to serve and be on display for you. You could bind or whip me - I promise I will make you proud of me."


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