Hayley walked fast along the pavement, towards the hotel. She could hear her heart thumping as if in time with the click of her heels. Her mouth was dry, but her snatch dripping, like her body was confused. She tried not to overthink it. Her mind was already a mess of quick, unfinished thoughts; anxiety, arousal, fear, excitement and a strange kind of pleasure. Not sexual pleasure. The kind of pleasure she got from seeing people help other people. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.
It was a warm, August evening and people were in high spirits, spilling out of offices into bars, restaurants and pubs. Waiters were flustered; already dreading what would inevitably be a busy night. A new critically-acclaimed comedy film was opening and flocks of teenagers congregated outside cinemas. The laugher was loud, the conversation buzzing. It felt like a good evening.
Hayley walked into the brightly-lit lobby of the Beaumont Hotel. Look busy, look busy. She was desperately afraid that one of the bellboys might ask her what she was doing, where she was headed, if she had a room. It was mad. It was so, so, mad. She was acutely conscious of the cameras in the foyer, the one in the elevator too, and the one in the corridor as soon as she stepped onto his floor. Room 714, his text had read.
There were a few minutes to spare until six pm. She hesitated, almost having second thoughts. But what if she annoyed him? What if he did take his business elsewhere? How would she even begin to explain it to her father? Fuck. Fuck. She hated herself for being so distracted by him. Every other client was a nobody. The work was routine, monotonous. Her mistake had been overdoing his file; putting so much effort into the technical details that she’d missed the glaring basic error. Fuck.
She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and took a deep breath. Room 714. The numbers were silver and shiny. She raised a hand to knock and then dropped it. Maybe he wasn’t even there. Maybe he’d gotten distracted. Or maybe he’d been joking. Yes. He must have been. This wasn’t sensible. This was irrational, illogical, insane. He was laughing at her… right?
Hayley swallowed hard. She delved into her bag for a bottle of water and gulped down a few cooling mouthfuls. She walked towards the elevator, then back towards the room. A woman came out of one of the rooms and eyed her suspiciously before disappearing into the elevator. Hayley looked at the door of Room 714. Wooden. Solid. White gloss paint.
She hated herself for being so indecisive. But this wasn’t a regular decision, was it? This was, for want of a better word, crazy. He’d spanked her in her goddamn office! She could barely believe it had happened. All day, she’d been in a state of unease, unable to concentrate on anything but what had transpired that morning. Her ass was sore. Her snatch was wet. She’d been hyper-aware of it all day, wanting to touch herself more than she ever had before.
She’d left the office early, hurrying home to take a cool shower. She’d stood under the stream of water for far longer than was necessary, and run her razor over every millimetre of her snatch until it was smooth as silk. As she’d dressed, she’d glimpsed her reddened ass in the wardrobe mirror and had been unable to help herself examining it with a strange kind of wonder. And then she’d seen the clock and pulled her dress down fast. She’d slipped into her panties, dug out her best heels and grabbed her purse before the door clicked shut behind her. So much effort. So many decisions.
And now she was here. She took a breath, walked ten paces away from the hotel room door and then ten paces back. She went into her bag again, dug out her compact mirror and examined her makeup, while knowing there was nothing wrong with it. Procrastination. The thief of time?
Her phone read 18:04. Fuck. Fuck. Four minutes over. She bit her lip hard. Then, summoning all her courage, she fisted her small hand and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Her heart beat a little faster. He wasn’t in. Was she disappointed? She felt almost embarrassed. She knocked again, harder this time. It hurt her knuckles a little. Ten seconds. Then I’ll go. Ten seconds. He’s not here. Relax. Fucking relax. She counted to ten but just as she stepped back towards the elevator, the door opened.
“You’re late,” he said, simply.
Hayley didn’t speak. He was shirtless. Bizarrely, it made her feel more vulnerable. She couldn’t look at him for very long. Something about his presence just made every rational part of her melt into nothing. Everything she’d ever cared about suddenly seemed trivial and unimportant.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. She didn’t even know she could talk so quietly.
Henry smiled. She thought of him as Henry, only because it was the way her father had always referred to him. It felt a little bold though, a little too casual. On the phone, or in meetings, she always addressed him as Mr Banks. She didn’t think she would ever dare say his first name out loud in front of him.
“Come in.”
He stepped to the side and she walked nervously into the room. It was bigger than any hotel room she’d ever stayed in but not ostentatiously so. There was a crisply made double bed, an armchair, and doors to an en-suite and a wardrobe. Two large, floor-length, windows looked out onto the city. It was still light outside, cars and buses grinding to a rush-hour halt and people walking fast on foot. There was a green park across the wide road and a group of boys were eating ice-creams while playing a half-hearted game of football.
For a few seconds, she almost forgot he was there. There was something very serene about being in the quiet, still hotel room and being able to see all the activity outside without hearing it. It was like watching television on mute. Then, she felt him behind her. There was something so deliberate and purposeful about the way he touched her, his hands dragging up her legs and beneath her dress to grab her ass. She pulled away, instinctively, her ass smarting from the morning’s incident. He laughed and only held tighter.
“You were late,” he said. She felt his mouth near her ear, wanted to feel it closer. “After I specifically told you not to be.”
“I’m sorry,” Hayley breathed. “I just – didn’t realise.”
His fingers had hooked into the waistband of her panties and he tugged them down. Then his hands were against her naked ass.
“I think you did,” His voice was low. “You wanted to test me. See how far you could get. You think I’m just gonna let you get away with it?”
She bit her lip hard, her eyes closing as his fingers pushed between her legs.
“I swear, I didn’t mean to,” He was touching her clit now and it made her breath come out in short gasps. She ground against his fingers without meaning to, unable to help herself and he didn’t stop her.
“You’ve wanted to come all day, haven’t you?” His voice was a little kinder now, a little more understanding. “Was it cruel of me? Not letting you touch yourself? Or did you deserve it?”
“I – I don’t know.” Her hips were shunting back and forth and in little circles, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers. It felt so good to be touched, so delicious.
“You did deserve it. You deserve a whole lot more, you little slut.” The word made her gasp and clench. “Not paying attention, being late, these aren’t things I want you making a habit of.”
“I won’t,” She was breathless by now, barely aware of anything but his hand. “I promise, I won’t.”
For a few precious seconds, his fingers rubbed her of their own accord, playing with her swollen clit until every part of her body stretched for the seemingly inevitable orgasm. But he pulled away.
“You came here to get punished,” he breathed. “Not for fun. Now take your clothes off.”
It took her a while to move after being denied so coldly but as she stepped away from the window, he caught her arm.
“No. Stay there.”
She looked from him to the big, flawless window and back again, her heart thudding anxiously. Across the road was another hotel and on the street below, thousands of people were going about their business. Anyone could see. She wanted to protest, but one look at him confirmed that it would be fruitless. She’d probably end up in more trouble.
Swallowing hard, she pulled off her shoes, then slid out of her lacy panties. She smoothed down the front of her dress anxiously. It was one of her favourites; sleeveless with a light blue chequered print and a wide belt which emphasised her small waist.
Hands trembling, she slid the belt free and let it fall to the floor. She reached behind to deftly unzip the dress and then, grasping the hem, she slipped it off over her head. For a few seconds, she felt like all her efforts to dress nicely had been underappreciated. He looked at her with a great deal more interest when she was naked, so intently in fact, that she couldn’t look at him and instead looked out of the window, stepping back instinctively in case anyone was looking in.
She felt his hand on the small of her back.
“Lean against the window. Put your hands flat against it.”
Hayley caught a strand of her hair and tugged at it nervously, twining it around her finger.
“But – I mean, what if someone sees?”
He laughed.
“Then it’ll make their day.” He pushed her forward firmly, making her stumble and catch herself on the window. The glass was cool against her palms.
“Ass out.” His voice was little more than a growl. She thought of all the years she’d fantasised about him. None of it had been anything like this stark, edgy reality.
She pressed her hands against the window, leaning harder on it as she bent at the waist, shifting her legs apart. She felt his hand on the inside of her knee, pushing her legs wider.
“This is how I like you,” he breathed. “Don’t forget.”
His hand slipped between her legs and touched her roughly, fingers dragging back up over her asshole. Hayley pressed her forehead against the window and stared down at the cars beneath, the red buses, the black cabs. They were in the middle of the city.
“You’re so wet,” he hissed, and his fingers moved slickly, from her clit to her tight asshole and back again. “So ready. Such a perfect, little slut. You want me to fuck you?”
Her face was burning red. She couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more. His fingers pulled back and his hands squeezed her ass hard.
“You’re going to count,” he said. “Four minutes late. That’s forty. You lose count, we start over. Got it?”
Hayley bit her lip, her body tensing with a burning anticipation. Forty? For fuck’s sake.
“Uh-huh.”
His hand slapped down against her ass before the confirmation was even out of her mouth. He’d hit her hard, harder than he had in the office and against her already reddened flesh, the pain was intensified. It took her breath away, made her want to close her legs and run. But she didn’t move.
“Count out loud, please.”
She screwed her eyes shut, wondering if she could ever feel more humiliated.
“One.” Her voice was steady, a barely controlled pretence of confidence. His hand cracked down again. “Two. Three. F-four.”
Why had she been late? Why had she wasted all that time in the goddamn corridor, spent so long picking out her stupid dress? She could see it on the floor, feel the soft material next to her foot. It was so comfortingly familiar.
Every time his palm slapped down, her eyes closed tight and she sucked in a long breath, holding it until she thought the pain might have passed. It didn’t work but she did it anyway. Routines made things easier, right? Right? She forced herself to focus on the count. By twenty, her ass was on fire. Each time, she told herself to just make it through one more. It was like being at the gym. One more lift, then go home. Just one. You can do one, can’t you? One isn’t very much. Soon enough, ten had cracked down into her flesh and she was gasping out the count.
“Thirty.” There was a fracture in her voice, something bordering on the edge of loss. She heard it and she knew he heard it and it made her feel weak. He didn’t spank her again immediately; instead, his hand moved between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing it gently. She felt the slow, languorous flow of pleasure, even as her ass stung. There was something so knowing about the way he played her. He had an instinctive understanding of her body, something her ex-boyfriend had been clueless about.
She knew he wouldn’t let her come but the more he touched her, the more she secretly believed he might.
