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The Hotel, Part 3

Posted by: Age: 20s Posted on: 1 comments
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The 2 earlier accounts of my experience in a chateau hotel (13/5/17 & 1/6/17) would be useful reading before you get into this part.


You may recall I was working in a very nice chateau hotel to improve my French and had had a pleasant experience with a visitor, Monsieur Rodriguez. I also had a frustrating experience the next day when he and his wife were both present; although, at the time, it looked as though it would be very good.

Well, life is full of coincidences and good moments. I was on duty about 2 weeks after the Rodriguez’s last visit and, at the reception desk, I saw that they had reserved a room again in 2 days’ time. I made a mental note and wondered if there might be any more “activities”. Having been frustrated the last time, I began to consider how I might reverse the tables if the opportunity presented itself.

The front parking area is visible from the reception desk so I could see the Rodriguez’s smart Mercedes arrive. I went out to greet them.

“Bonjour Madame, Monsieur. Welcome back to our chateau hotel.”

“Bonjour Tasha, how are you,” said Monsieur Rodriguez. Madame favored me with a weak smile.

“Can I help you with your baggage?”

“Of course,” said Madame.

As we all walked towards the hotel entrance Madame called out to her husband, “Can you bring my boots please, darling!”

Mr. Rodriguez returned to the car and Madame whispered to me, “Don’t get any ideas, young lady, about messing with my husband again, understand?”

“Of course, Madame,” I intoned.

I show them to their suite and they spend a quiet time enjoying the hotel for their one night stay. I was still at the reception desk when they returned to their room after dinner later that night. Mr. Rodriguez lingered for a few moments to look at some leaflets while his wife walked upstairs.

“I shall be back here in 10 days, on the 23rd,” he says. “Please reserve me a room for 2 nights. I shall be alone and arriving sometime after 6 in the evening.” He smiled winningly at me.

Over the next several days, I concocted a small plan for his return. Three days before his arrival, I sent a short note addressed to him at the hotel via the post, to await his arrival. I didn’t want others to see a plain envelope in his box. The note was simple: “Be ready for me to see you at 6pm on the 24th in your room. Tasha.” I arranged to be off duty on that evening.

Pedro Rodriguez duly arrived, checked in, and I saw him there when I was at reception on the day of his arrival. It was a Tuesday.

Wednesday late afternoon I showered and changed for my rendezvous with Mr. Rodriguez. I decided that, to an extent, I would look as though I am on duty; one must wear a black skirt or trousers as well as a white blouse. Normally my skirt is quite long but, for this occasion, I had bought a very short black one and a loose fitting white blouse. This was for external appearances. Underneath, I wore no bra (except a pashmina to cover myself when I go into the hotel) and a miniscule thong, also black.

At a few minutes after 6 I slipped into the hotel bar and told Antoine behind the bar that I needed a bottle of Moet et Chandon champagne and two glasses for me to take to M Rodriguez. Even though Antoine does not question my order, he does remark that I look very nice; he even asked if we could perhaps have dinner together one night?

I slipped away from the bar and passed outside so that I can go up to Mr. Rodriguez’s room by a staircase less used by guests. I set my phone alarm; 30 minutes should be long enough. I knocked on his door, he opened it and said, “Ah, what a pleasant surprise. The champagne’s a good idea.” I walked in. “You look stunning,” he said as he looked me up and down, smiling broadly.

“Thank you, Monsieur, you are very complimentary.”

 “Let me open the champagne, and, and we can drink to your beauty,” he stuttered slightly.

“I would like that, Monsieur. However, there is a small thing I have to tell you: that unfortunately I cannot stay too long as I might be missed.”

“Oh, that’s all right. Chin, chin!”

We sipped our champagne.

“Monsieur will remember our last meeting in your room?”

“Oh yes, I often think about it! It makes me quite excited to think what you did!”

“Well, you remember you tied me up or, rather, your wife tied me up? This time I am going to do the same to you and give you pleasure. So, if you would, take off your clothes and lie on your bed. I am sure you would like me to do things to you, n’est ce pas?”

“This will excite me a lot and I’m sure you will be good to me, no?”

He took off all his clothes and already I see he is taking an interest in me, in anticipation of he knows not what!

“Lie, face up, put your arms up, hands by the top of the bed!”

I took the curtain ties and tie his wrists to the headboard.

“Turn over!”

He twisted over, not too comfortably as his wrists were tied but there was enough slack. The curtains have metal or plastic pulls in every room so I unscrewed one of these and laid it on the bed beside him. I leaned in over his naked back, ran my fingers down his spine. Then I massaged his back a little, repeated the exercise, and ran a nail down the crack of his backside. I pushed aside his legs, looked between them where I saw the dark thatch of hair, his balls, and ran my fingers gently against the globes. He breathed heavily, even moaned, “That’s lovely! Do it some more.”

Suddenly, I dug my nails sharply into his buttocks!

“Hey!” he shouted, but I ignored his protest. I took the curtain pull and whacked him across the buttocks. His arse clenched. I waited. It relaxed. I hit him again; he protested but did not turn over. He liked it! A few more blows followed, then I blew softly on the welts that now showed. I rubbed a bit of cream that I found on his nightstand to soothe the angry skin.

“Turn over and look at me!”

He did so. I rewarded him by partly unbuttoning my blouse so he could see my cleavage. I leaned forward, to afford him a better view, then kissed his nipples and pulled them with my lips.

“Right Mr. Rodriguez, next, I am just going to tie your feet to the corners of the bed so that I am your master, or mistress, and play with you. OK?”

“Yes, yes I would like that, play with me, pleasure me.”

I now had my man tied up in four places, at my mercy! His cock was at full erection, not even touching his stomach. It even pulsed slightly.

“Can I touch your cock? Would you like me to handle it, Mr. Rodriguez?”

“Yes, go on, touch it, lick it for me. Please. I need you to.”

I paused to taste my champagne, then my fingers encircled his cock about half way up. I made a downward move, then up, then stopped. I saw a clear emission from his eye. With my finger, I spread the liquid around the top of his cock, all around the head, and slid my fingers down again, repeating the motion a few times.

“How does that feel Monsieur? Do you like this? The last time I did it you liked it a lot!”

“Please, it is good. But I want to see you, to see your breasts, your cunt!”

“Ah, yes, of course you do. But this is for your pleasure, not too quickly!”

My hand made quite a few more oscillations along the length of his shaft. I remembered from the last time I wanked Mr. Rodriguez’ cock that he came quite quickly so I had to be careful. I did not want him cumming, at least not yet! I held him at the base where his hair sprouts out and massaged from there – not very good – right up to the top where I benefitted from the precum I spread around and which is still oozed from his tool.

“Enough of that for the moment,” I said. I tried more champagne, spilled some on his cock, and turned around and placed my legs on each side of his head. He looked up my skirt and saw the tiny panties I have on. He could not see my cunt. I shaved well so there is no hair to see. My haven of lust for him is concealed but inches from his face and he could not reach it because he was still tied. Exactly what I wanted! I felt my cunt was wet with my own juices so my thong would be damp. He would see this, knowing my own lust was rising. He tried to reach up with his head and lick me but the wrist restraints were too tight; he could not quite reach me.

Keeping my crotch well above him I leaned down towards his cock, glistening a deep red almost purple. I reached to finger his balls and played with them a little. He was breathing heavily, even panting, and I held his cock. Then I licked the end, tasted the precum and champagne, enveloped the end, sucked, absorbed as much of it into my mouth as I could, and then withdrew, sucking all the while.

Monsieur’s breath was rasping. He was very excited; his cock thrusted upwards but I backed off, ever the tease.

I dipped my hips, my thong swept down and touched his nose, and I raised my hips again. I did not want to give too much! I moved away from his face and moved to sit astride him, facing his member, where I wanked him very slowly and gently. But this was no good! I could not see his face, his expression. I turned, repositioned myself between his legs, my own legs splayed, so he could see up my skirt and feast his eyes again on my panties and on that area which remained hidden to him. He could also see my cleavage, which is the most of my breasts he saw that evening – except what he may have noticed through my sheer blouse.

“Monsieur would like to see under my skirt? Would you like me to take it off?”

“Oh yes, Tasha! Yes, take it off, let me see you, your lovely cunt!”

“OK, OK, then soon!”

I held his cock in my two hands and moved them up and down, oh so slowly!

“Monsieur, are you going to cum, are you nearly there? Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I am nearly cummimg, it just needs a bit more. Please don’t stop, you’re so good. Faster, wank me faster, please!”

I waited, not to bring him off but for my alarm to go! I had another sip of champagne and more spilt on his cock.

“Ah yes Monsieur. You remember when I was here with your wife? You had me so sexed up that all I wanted was to cum. I was nearly there, like you are now. Then you just threw me out. You just want me to make you cum don’t you?”

My hands still moved gently, tantalizingly slowly, along his length. I had to pause and feel his balls, quite tight they were. I’ve learned that is a sign that he’s ready to explode. I must stop! I let him go. His cock moved and vibrated with a life of its own.

“Yeah, you’re right, but it was my wife who wanted you thrown out! It wasn’t me. Please don’t stop now. My cock is on fire, I must cum, keep on with your hands, your mouth, anything! Please!”

“OK, Monsieur, I’ll keep on! But I must go soon. I’m required on duty,” I lied.

Yet again my finger and thumb encircled his staff; two or three very quick movements, and my alarm goes off! I leaped from the bed to switch it off.

“Ah, Monsieur, we have unfortunately run out of time and I must go. This is sad as my next plan, before making you cum, was to take off my panties and show myself to you, even let you lick me But time has prevented this!”

As I said this I moved towards the bed, stooped and enveloped the end of his cock, for a fleeting moment, in my mouth.

“When you next come here you must satisfy me!”

I moved to the bedhead, swiftly untied one wrist, sprang back and moved to the door.

“You wretched woman, you tease, you cocksucker, you...”

But I am gone! He had a remarkable command of English for a Portuguese, I think!



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