This is my entry for EA’s short story competition. Enjoy!
I stood at the baggage carousel waiting for my suitcase. I was exhausted. My flight was late landing, due to the will they or won’t they cancel the flight game. I just wanted a bath, a book, and a bed, however not necessarily in that order.
I saw my luggage coming down the belt and I snatched it up as soon as it was in front of me. I walked out of the airport to flag down a taxi, only barely registering my suitcase felt heavier than I remembered. I put it down to being tired. It wasn’t hard to get a taxi this late at night; the place was pretty much empty. I gave the driver the name of the hotel and sat back against the seat with my eyes closed. The taxi bumped along rhythmically and I was almost asleep when it came to a stop.
I paid the driver and dragged myself and the suitcase out on the curb. I stared up at the imposing building, willing myself to have enough energy to go inside. As tired as I was, I would have been fine curling up on my suitcase and sleeping on the sidewalk.
I walked in to the desk to check in. The person behind the desk took my information and handing me one of those plastic key cards. I went to the elevator, punched in my floor, and walked to the door of my room. After about ten tries, the door finally unlocked and I walked inside. I deposited my suitcase on the bed and walked over to the window to adjust the temperature. They always kept these rooms way too cold for my tastes.
I walked into the bathroom, undressing as I went, to run water for a bath. I went back to the bed and opened the suitcase. I stared blankly at it. Inside were none of my clothes, none of my toiletries, none of my shoes.
“What. The. Fuck?” I said aloud.
Gingerly, I picked up one item between my forefinger and thumb and studied it. I had never seen anything like this before. It was a silicone ring with balls on it, decreasing in size along the length of it. The next item I picked up was a massager. There was also a paddle amongst numerous items I couldn’t name. I gave the suitcase a cursory search for some kind of contact info. Obviously if I had this suitcase, then whoever this belonged to had mine. I ran to the bathroom to shut off the water before the tub overflowed. I put on a bathrobe the hotel provided. For some reason, looking at all these things made me feel vulnerable in a way I did not like.
I sat down on the bed and started searching pockets of the suitcase, looking for a name and hopefully a phone number. I found both in an inside pocket, but I’d had to move all the things in it to get to it.
I grabbed my cell phone and started dialing the number. A woman answered on the third ring.
“Madam Madonna’s House of Pain, I am Madam Madonna. How may I assist you?” she said.
“I – I – I found a suitcase with this number in it,” I squeaked out.
“Thank God! I thought it was lost! Where are you? I will come and get it.”
“Do you have my suitcase?” I asked her. I gave her the hotel name and my room number.
She gave an appreciative little chuckle. “I know the place well. I will be there in fifteen.”
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Hesitantly, I opened it. There was a dark haired woman, in a leather evening gown standing on the other side. I was a good three inches taller than her. I stepped aside and let her through the door. She looked around at my room like she might be staying awhile. Then she turned to me.
“You are very pretty girl,” she cooed. “I wouldn’t mind having you tied up in my dungeon.” She stepped in front of me, her fingers touching the ends of my hair lightly. I could smell her perfume. I didn’t know what it was, but it was intoxicating. My body felt pulled toward her, like a magnet attracting another magnet. I wanted to lean down and kiss her, but I didn’t know if people were allowed to do such things to Madam Madonna.
She looked at me and said softly, “What shall be your reward?”
I looked down at my feet and said “Whatever you desire, Mistress,”
“Whatever I desire?” She seemed taken aback slightly. “Whatever I desire.” She unclasped the brooch at her waist, and the dress slid to the floor. She stood in front of me, naked. Her smooth tanned skin shimmered slightly in the light of the lamp. “Take off the robe. Get on the bed.”
I scurried to comply with her orders. I tore off the robe and laid down on the spare bed. She pulled out rope from the suitcase, and set about tying me to the bed legs. When she got to my feet, she roughly pulled my legs apart. She stopped just for a moment to admire my pussy before lashing down my feet. I could barely move. I was terrified. What had I gotten myself into?
Madam Madonna looked at me fiercely, leaning so close to me I could kiss her, but I dared not. Suddenly, she grabbed my nipple and twisted it hard. I bit my lip to keep from yelling in pain. She smiled slightly, as if that was the reaction she wanted from me. I watched as she dug around in the suitcase and produced the massager. She plugged it in then settled it between my legs. I thought I was going to explode on contact.
She pulled out some clothespins from the suitcase and applied them to my tits. I kind of enjoyed the pinching, but then she started twisting them. Instead of hurting, the sensation made my pussy throb. I felt close to an orgasm, but I held back. I didn’t want it to be over too soon.
“You’ve been a bad girl, taking things that don’t belong to you. What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked me, sternly.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked out.
That’s when she slapped my boob hard. The pain radiated throughout my chest between the slap and the clothespins.
“What do you say?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” I felt my face flush.
She leaned down and kissed me hard on the mouth, her tongue teased mine. She grabbed a fist full of my hair, and pulled my head to the side, exposing my neck for her to kiss. She made a trail down to my chest where she started nibbling on my nipples. I could no longer contain myself as the massager laid siege to my clit and the orgasm ripped through me. I thought I was going to burn up from the inside out. I screamed so loud she had to clamp on hand over my mouth
She lay the massager aside and started using her fingers. In and out, rubbing my G-spot. I felt another orgasm coming on. I moaned and she whispered in my ear not to hold back. I didn’t.
Two hours later, after we were both thoroughly spent, Madam Madonna got up and got dressed. I rubbed my wrists, enjoying the rope marks.
“Well, that was fun.” she said, packing up her suitcase of pain. “No I did not pick up your suitcase. You may want to check with the airline and see if they lost yours.”
And with that, she was out the door. I sat on the bed, naked and alone as her words penetrated my sleepy haze.
That’s when my cell phone rang. I answered it. It was a man.
“Uh, hi. I think I got your suitcase by mistake.”