Roomy Service
- 1 year ago
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Room Service free porn video
Room Service
Thanks to world events, the great zombie apocalypse, followed by the
collapse of western civilization, then the roving bands of scavangers,
the global population being reduced to a fraction of its former size.....
Okay, Covid, thanks to Covid, our favorite - okay, MY favorite - Mistress
and sissy have spent months apart. And, ladies and gentlemen, bois and
gurls, I can promise you this, absence most certainly does make the heart
grow fonder.
So we find ourselves, on this stormy weekend day, secreted in comfortable
hotel room. A storm of near biblical proportions blows outside. While
inside, the peace and calm of God's own angels washes over me. I am with
Her again. My sweet and terrifying Mistress.
She sits me down to do my hair and face. Because only she can do my hair
and face to her own satisfaction. Even she can't make me "pass." But she
can certainly make me undeniably feminine. Almost as feminine outside as
I feel inside when I am with her. I've been growing my hair out for
several years now, and what she does with it is nothing short of art.
But, as always, when she is weaving Her magic I am lost. Lost in Her.
Lost in eyes that are the richness of milk chocolate and so deep. So deep
and so powerful they see right through me. I can hide nothing when she
turns those eyes on me. Especially when the power of those eyes is paired
with and magnified by the arch of her eyebrows. God help me but, while I
tower over her physically, all she has to do is twitch one of her
perfectly arched brows and I feel like a child again. Either caught with
my hand in the cookie jar, or comforted and made safe while the storm
rages outside. And all with the smallest twitch of her brow and the light
in her eyes.
I try not to stare. But I can't stop. She is so close. Every time we are
like this is like the first time all over again. Her skin, so soft, with
a light dusting of freckles across forhead and cheeks, barely visible
unless you are able to tear your eyes away from Hers. And all this framed
by the longest locks of thick, rich, red hair. That a face so beautiful
is framed by what appears to be flowing flames does my nerves no good. If
you didn't know better, you would think she was plucked straight from the
Emerald Isle. Her beauty intimidates me. To me, we are very much the
Goddess and the gollum. (Please don't tell her I said that. She is less
than amused with anything she percieves as me putting myself down. ;) )
My sweet and terrifying Mistress is dressed very casual. I should say
that for her, casual is still stunning. A simple black blouse with long,
sheer sleeves. Jeans that hug her legs to an almost obscene degree. And
strappy, black high heels that frame the most beautiful, kissable feet I
have ever seen. The nails, a deep fire engine red, match those on her
fingers.
Suddenly, she is done. She turns me to the mirror and, just like the
first time, she has to command me not to cry. She can see the tears well
in my eyes.
"Stop that, this instant! Don't you dare ruin my hard work."
I can barely speak, but respond with a soft, "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."
She has again made what I feel inside show on the outside.
She takes my hand and leads me from the bathroom to the sitting area of
the room. She sits, but has me stand in front of her. Hands clasped in
front of me, eyes on the floor, I am lost in being hers.
"Turn," she says.
Slowly, I turn in a circle, letting her see me in the clothes I had
picked, hoping to meet her approval. A simple yellow blouse, long sleeved
to hide youthful indiscretions. A knee length, floral print skirt, also
in yellow. Underneath that, white, thigh high stockings clipped to a
white garter belt, with my floral print boy shorts pulled up over those.
And under that? My little pink cage, of course.
"Come and kneel, my little petal," she tells me.
I take two steps forward and kneel at her feet, keeping my eyes downcast
at all times. I am able to see that she is holding something in her
hands. My collar! I can't help but gasp.
"You've missed this, haven't you?"
"More than I can say, Mistress," I respond. And she can hear the catch in
my voice. She can see the tremble in my flesh. And again, she knows.
"Don't. You. Dare."
I try. I try so hard. But a single tear escapes.
"Mistress, I'm sorry..." I try to say. But she stops me. In her
compassion, she understands. She understands the ache in my heart at
being parted for so long.
"No, sweet little Tabitha, it's okay. My precious little pet. On the
outside, so big and strong. And on the inside, my delicate little petal.
I know you've missed this. I know you need this."
She holds up the collar. I lean forward and place the softest of kisses
on the inside of it. Then I reach back to pull my hair up. Eyes closed,
lost in the moment, I feel her put it around my neck. Snug, but not too
tight. Just enough to never forget it is there.
It may clash with all the yellow in my clothes - I didn't think of that
when I was choosing this outfit, I hope she isn't displeased - but,
honestly, I don't care. I have the collar around my throat again. The
collar she picked out for me so long ago. A thin band of pink leather,
with "Tabitha," front and center. I am at her feet and collared. In that
moment, all is right with the world. I feel a peace I haven't felt in
months.
Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. My head jerks up and around in
confusion, not understanding what is happening. I look back to her, fear
written plainly on my face. And what I see sends me from fear to terror.
A smile so devilish as to be almost evil dances across her features.
"Oh, that must be the lunch I ordered," she says.
"Mistress?" The look, the playful, evil look, is still there.
"Tabitha, answer the door," she says.
I can't move. I'm frozen in absolute terror. I begin to tremble. And then
I feel her reach out and put her fingers under my chin, lifting my face
so that I can't help but look into her eyes.
"Now," she says. She doesn't yell. Doesn't even raise her voice. She says
it with a quiet, firm authority that cannot be ignored or denied.
I walk to the door as the person knocks again. I slowly reach for the
handle. Is this what it is like in that moment before death? The moment
people claim that your whole life flashes before your eyes? Everything
slows down. I am hyper-aware of everything I am wearing, every movement I
am making. So much so that I would swear I can feel the blood coursing
through my veins.
I have one chance, only one, to save myself. I open the door while trying
to stay hidden behind it. I should have known she would not tolerate such
an act.
"Don't hide, Tabitha. Step out and be seen. Now."
Another tear escapes, to run down my cheek. But I can't disobey her. I
step out from behind the door but I can't raise my head to look at the
delivery person.
I hear his intake of breath. Can almost feel his smirk.
He asks, "What the fuck? People in hotels in the middle of the day are
always freaks."
"Oh," Mistress says to him. "Sounds like this isn't the first time you've
seen such fun and games."
She has walked up behind me. Close enough that I can't back up and close
the door. I am trapped in the open doorway. Caught between my Mistress
and this young man.
"I wonder," she says, "if you might be willing to help me out with
something."
At this point, I am shaking. Shaking like a leaf. Another tear falls as I
see him reach down to adjust himself in his shorts.
"Let me guess," he laughs, "you want to see this little bitch take a real
mans cock?"
"Exactly right!" she exclaims. "However did you know?"
"Told you, red, I've seen this shit before," he says.
'Red?' I think to myself. How rude! That is my Mistress, my Goddess! Who
does this creep think he is, talking to her like that. Thankfully, my
mouth is incapable of making coherent sounds at the moment.
"I ain't got time to bend your bitch over and turn her out," he says.
A wave of relief passes over me. He is going to leave, Mistress is going
to have her lunch, and I am going to die quietly of shame. And then my
hopes are dashed in an instant.
"But I have enough time to let your little sissy choke on my cock," he
says.
I try to back up, to get away from him. But she is behind me. So close I
feel her breasts press against my arm. Then I feel her run her hand up my
back. She moves her hand to the back of my head, running her fingers into
my hair and balling her fist. Her hand clenched tight in my hair I feel
her pull my head up so that I have no choice but to look into his eyes.
"Wonderful," she says. "Won't you come in?"
She walks me back into the room, hand still clenched in my hair, until we
are in front of the couch. She stops me far enough from the couch that
she can sit comfortably, but close enough that she can reach out and
touch if she wants. Then she turns me so that I am facing sideways in
relation to how she will sit.
"On your knees, petal," she says. Using my hair to control me, she pulls
me down to a kneeling position.
"Petal?" the brute asks. "Freaks and their games."
"You know what to do, pet," she tells me.
And I do. I know what she wants to see. We have discussed it enough. With
trembling fingers, I reach out to pull down his shorts. As I almost reach
them, he slaps my hands away.
"Don't touch me, bitch," he almost snarls. "Put your goddamn hands behind
your back."
I look to Mistress, suddenly scared. Not just emotionally, but truly,
physically scared. And I see the smallest curve at one side of her mouth
and the raising of an eyebrow.
"My, my," she says, "such a take charge young man. I can't say much for
your manners. But I like your attitude."
And, strangely, her words calm me. Not the words themselves. The way she
says them. I know that she is still one hundred percent in control of
this situation. And, more importantly, 'the brute' knows it as well. We
can both feel the power and authority eminating from her in waves. I am
comforted by that power. 'The brute' seems almost intimidated by it.
"My show," she says, "begin it."
I look back to him in time to see him pulling down his shorts. As they
slide lower I can see the root of his cock appear. And again I experience
that slow motion effect. It seems to take forever. God help me, it is
obscene in its size when it is fully revealed. Easily over 9 inches
flaccid, and thick. Oh God, it's too much. I will never be able to take
this!
In a moment of fear I try backing away. I can't move far or fast being on
my knees. And even if I could, I am not brave enough to defy her like
that. But he doesn't know that. His hand shoots out and grabs my hair,
holding me steady at first. Then pulling me to him. If it were just him,
I would resist. While he is handsome enough, at the peak of physical
perfection, and - if I had to be honest, has an absolutely glorious cock
- he is most definitely not my type. While I may be attracted to
assertive men, I like them to be gentlemen.
And then I feel it. His cock brushing against my lips. At the first touch
I hear Mistress let out a very lusty moan. He hears it to, the brute. And
it seems he is determined to give her a show she won't soon forget. All
at my expense.
Suddenly I feel him tighten his grip and thrust his cock as far into my
mouth as he can get it. And in the blink of an eye, I am choking and
gagging. Groaning around his cock I try to look over to Mistress, only
have him jerk my head back to him immediately.
"Pay attention to my cock, bitch," he snarls.
And then, there is no other way to describe it than the 'face fucking,'
starts in earnest. I feel his hand, his left hand, at the back of my head
pulling me onto his cock. Apparently, he is at least smart enough to know
to keep his other hand out of the way so that Mistress has a clear view.
And, unfortunately(?) for me, smart enough to have picked up on seeing
how easily Mistress guided me by my hair. He keeps his fingers wrapped in
it, pulling my on and off of his cock.
Does he realize how submissive it makes me feel inside to have someone
use my hair like that? Or did it just seem like a convenient leash for
him? It doesn't matter. Either way, it is having the effect on me. Making
me feel small, weak, subserviant.
And, suddenly, I want his cock in my mouth. I want to give it pleasure. I
want to make it happy. I want to be the one that relieves it of all the
days various little stresses. And cum. I 'go limp.' I use just enough
energy to stay upright. But not enough to fight. I become nothing but a
recepticle. A living fleshlight for his cock.
But not just for his cock. For the amusement of my Mistress. I know this
is the show she wants. Me, reduced to nothing but a warm hole for a mans
cock to cum into.
The whole scenario has an effect on me. It makes my little clitty ache in
its cage. Somehow, she knows. I feel her hand reach under my skirt and
run up my thigh. I feel her pull my panties to the side so she can carass
my little orbs, my little sissy ovaries, she calls them. God, her touch.
So soft. It has been so very long since I have felt such love.
"Tell me when you are about to cum," she says.
And I know she isn't speaking to me. She is talking to 'the brute.' I am
not allowed to cum. It's improper.
"Fuck, lady," he says, "I'm about to."
Really? It flashes through my mind that while he may have a magnificent
cock, his staying power leaves a lot to be desired.
She sees him tense. Sees his balls start to pull up close to his body.
"That's it," she tells him, "let it all out. Here, let me help."
And then I feel her soft touch turn to steel. She clamps her hand around
my little ovaries and squeezes. Hard. So hard that even with his cock in
my mouth I manage to scream. The vibrations the scream make have the
desired effect on 'the brute.' He cums. And he cums a lot. Having been
made to keep my hands behind my back, I had not been able to pay
attention to his balls. But they have to be as monstrous as his cock to
produce so much cum. I can't swallow it all. I can't even swallow most of
it. It is running down my chin, down my neck. I have a fleeting thought
that it is going to stain my blouse. Then I am brought back to reality.
And, suddenly, he is done. As fast as he started, he pulls up his shorts,
and almost runs for the door. I hear the door close before I realize that
I am still there, kneeling, his cum all over me. And Mistress still
gripping my ovaries.
She is suddenly soft and compassionate again. She keeps me on my knees
but helps me turn to face the couch. Then she moves away to sit on the
couch and looks down on me.
"Well," she says, "he was a dud. I had hoped for so much more out of
him."
I can't speak. I can only kneel and let the tears flow. My throat sore,
my ovaries still throbbing, my makeup a ruined mess, my hair a shambles.
"Tabitha," she says as she looks into my tear filled eyes, "you are a
filthy little mess. Look at all that cum you missed."
And I feel...shame. Not for having been used and degraded. Not for having
been reduced to nothing but a hole. I feel shame because I wasn't able to
swallow it all. I made a mess. And I know how much Mistress hates a mess.
And then the tears start again.
"Mistress, I'm sorry. I tried to....." I started.
"Be silent, petal," she says. "We will deal with your shortcomings after
I enjoy my salad."
And I kneel there, quietly, knowing that this day had only just begun.
Knowing that, after she finished her lunch, things would very possibly
get so much worse for me. And as I kept my eyes respectfully down and
focused on her feet, the tears flowing down my face and feeling the cum
dry on me, I was happier than I had been in months.
And, somehow, I knew that my sweet and terrifying Mistress Ruby was as
well.
Fin?
As always, feedback is always welcome.
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Elle
- 01.06.2022
- 10
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