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Bondage Hotel – ebook

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Bondage Hotel by Charles Graham

The lovely redhead Hazel is a small town girl with exactly the innocence and charm that Miles Hetherington is looking for. Under his influence, the naive 22 year old gives in to her repressed sexual desires, and when Miles invites her to work for him at his London Hotel she jumps at the chance. What Hazel doesn’t realize is that Miles is an experienced Master with the intention of turning her into a full time sexual submissive to serve at his newest enterprise, Bondage Hotel. She’ll be trained to serve as maid, waitress and sexual toy for the wealthy guests. As one of several hotel submissives, she’ll be tethered to a ceiling track running through every room. Any sign of resistance will be punished with cruel efficiency until she learns to obey.
As a frightened Hazel tours the unique facilities of Bondage Hotel while stringently locked into steel cuffs, she shudders at the sight of Miles’ fully-equipped bondage dungeon. The trembling girl is horrified to discover that her body and mind respond with shameful excitement to the stark reality of her plight. To her shame, she cannot hide or deny her unwanted arousal. As Hazel’s training continues, her conditioned sexual responses grow even stronger until she is forced to accept that her submissiveness is no longer against her will, and that her submission to Miles brings her more fulfillment than she had ever dreamed possible.
Soon there are more unsuspecting females joining Hazel at Bondage Hotel. As their lives entwine, they suffer the pain of stringent bondage, exacting discipline, submissive positions, pony girl training and savage punishment, while relishing the wild pleasures of both straight and lesbian sex. This narrative also includes piercing, collars, shackles, gags, rope, racks, ‘X’ frame and the pillory.

Artist Credit

Cover Art Shutterstock.com

Publish Date

3/6/2008

Page Count

133

Word Count

77308

ISBN

9781936173099

Excerpt

In the weeks that had flown by since she had accompanied Miles to London, Hazel had seen things, eaten and drunk things and experienced things that she had only known existed from television pictures, and in many cases, had never known about at all.

He had told her that he managed a hotel, but she had envisioned something on the lines of the one she had worked in.

The reality was completely different.

His hotel catered to an international clientele and offered the very highest standards of luxury, cuisine and privacy to its guests and, as manager, Miles was a very important man.

Although nowhere near as rich as the guests he catered for, he was also fairly wealthy and Hazel was in seventh Heaven to find herself taken to theatre shows, expensive restaurants, even more expensive clothes shops and even to Wimbledon and Ascot.

The icing on the cake as far as Hazel was concerned, was Miles’ assiduous instruction in the arts of love-making, her body growing attuned to his touch and responding with ever increasing passion to his hands and lips, her climaxes ever stronger as he took her and her sexuality flowered under his skilful tuition.

Though she never realised it until far too late, Miles moulded her to his will, playing on her inexperience and innate sense of adventure to lead her down the paths he wanted her to travel.

He taught her how to arouse herself to climax while he watched her.

He taught her to enjoy sex in the open air, grass beneath her naked back.

He taught her to wear the revealing clothes he provided for her, without underwear.

He taught her, with her own eager cooperation, to delight in being bound and helpless for increasingly longer periods.

Most importantly, he taught her to rely on him, trust him and accept his judgment.

The last being a fatal error on her part, but Hazel could not be expected to know that he was preparing her to play a central role in a plan that was nearing fruition.

His Bondage Hotel, where devotees of domination and subjugation could live out their greatest fantasies in luxurious, purpose built surroundings.

For a price.

A very high price.

As part of his plan, Miles took Hazel on a trip to Soho, the centre of London’s sex industry and encouraged her first to examine and then to buy several bondage magazines, a large vibrator and a set of leather wrist and ankle cuffs, overcoming her embarrassment at even looking at such things by the simple expedient of sending her out of the shop and then buying them himself.

His ploy worked, as he had known it would, Hazel’s curiosity getting the better of her as soon as they got home. In next to no time, she lay spreadeagled and naked in the centre of his huge bed, her new cuffs buckled tightly around her wrists and ankles and tied securely to the four corners, her eyes bulging with aroused fascination as he showed her picture after picture of women bound even more helplessly than she was.

Making quite sure to point out that although many of the women were just models, some were genuine slave-girls, the collars on their necks placed there by their Masters.

The vibrator was equally successful when, leaving her spreadeagled and ignoring her frantic protests, he inserted it into her wetly glistening sex and switched it on.

Her screams of ecstasy as her belly exploded in gigantic climaxes were music to his ears but were so loud that he had to leave the room for almost a full hour.

Leaving the vibrator turned up to maximum.

Immediately afterwards, at Hazel’s request as they lay cradled together recovering from yet another bout of passionate love making, both cuffs and vibrator became regular features of their sex games and she slipped imperceptibly further and further under his spell.

Alone in his home while he was at work, she found herself drawn irresistibly to the magazines he had bought, turning time and again to the pictures of women with metal collars around their necks.

The women that Miles had assured her were genuine slave-girls.

She had no way of telling whether he was right, but rather hoped he was, for it added to the delicious warmth the pictures always produced in her belly as she imagined herself with a collar…Miles’ collar…locked around her own slim throat.

Over a period of weeks, her fantasy of becoming Miles’ slave-girl took firm root in her mind and the more she thought about it, the more excited she became as she anticipated his delight when she handed him the metal ring and asked him to collar her.

It would be her way of expressing her gratitude for everything he had done for her and she knew he would be thrilled by her gift.

But there was one seemingly insurmountable problem.

She was perfectly prepared to wear a collar around the house when she was alone with Miles, but what about when they went out in public?

It would be impossible to hide, but if she had to remove it every time they went out, much of the point of wearing it at all would be lost.

She looked at the slave-girls in the pictures and wondered how they managed.

It didn’t occur to her that a slave-girl, who was genuinely enslaved, might never go out in public.

Or that if one did, she might have to wear her collar openly as a sign of her enslavement…

 

Miles was away for a week and Hazel was bored and frustrated.

Pondering the collar problem as she flipped idly through one of the magazines, she stopped, intrigued, as one of the many advertisements caught her eye and set her brain buzzing with a whole new list of stimulating and somewhat frightening possibilities.

The notice offered tattooing and body piercing facilities, on the premises or at the client’s home, by either male or female staff. As she read the details, Hazel felt a ripple of undeniable arousal as she realised that she had found the answer she had been looking for.

If she had the nerve to take it.

After an hour spent agonising over the pros and cons of having herself pierced, Hazel picked up the phone and dialed.

“May I help you?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, I think so. You see, I…want to have a p…piercing.”

“I see. What type of piercing, Madam? Ears? Nose? Or perhaps, exotic?”

“Um. Well…uh…ex…exotic.”

“Extremely popular these days, Madam. Would that be nipples, labia or elsewhere, Madam?”

The woman’s calm, impersonal questions steadied Hazel’s nerve and she was able to control her embarrassment to some extent. “L…Labia,” she stammered.

“Both, or just one, Madam?”

“Well…both, I suppose.”

“Rings then, I imagine, Madam. Silver or gold? We supply either, but gold is our recommendation.”

Hazel had never thought about it. “Uh, gold, then.”

“Very good, Madam. I take it that you would prefer one of our female staff to visit you at your home to carry out the procedure?

“Oh, yes. Definitely.”

“I can arrange that for tomorrow morning if you give me your address.”

“Uh, yes. Fine,” Hazel said and gave her the details.

“Very good, Madam. Miss Holman will be with you tomorrow.”

“Wait. How…How long does it t…take.”

“No more than ten minutes, Madam and please try not to worry. I assure you it won’t hurt and in two to three days you will be fully healed and the proud possessor of two elegant piercings to delight both yourself and your partner.”

Hazel thanked the woman and put down the telephone, then slid her fingers beneath her skirt and fingered herself gently, her sex moistening as she imagined the feel of cool, hard gold transfixing her velvet soft flesh.

Her arousal built steadily as she anticipated what Miles would say and do to her when he discovered her rings and her fingers slipped into the wet channel between her thighs, rubbing harder as she visualised him buckling the leather cuffs on her limbs and spreadeagling her.

Nearing her climax, Hazel whimpered in need, her brain full of images of his erect maleness ploughing into her belly and his cruel lips feasting on her helpless breasts. As her fingers thrust deep into her own body, she shuddered in orgasm, her mouth opening in a soft scream of sheer pleasure.

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