“Good afternoon madam, how can I help you”
“Checking in” I replied, pushing my reservation confirmation across the desk towards the young man.
He immediately busied himself with his computer screen, tapping away at the little keys for what seemed like an incredibly long time. I couldn’t help the little sigh of frustration that escaped my lips, prompting the young man to glance up at me and start apologising for keeping me waiting. I had to bite my lip not to lean across the counter and say….
Young man, I have been waiting for 4 months for this moment, I have just waited through 10 hours of travel from London to Philadelphia, 2 hours of passport control and a 20 minute taxi ride. I am an expert at waiting but now I am this close to it I find myself eager to put an end to the waiting but of course this only makes sense if you know I have been waiting for? See that man standing over there by the flowers. I have been waiting for him and me and your hotel room and a whip. So please, for the love of all things kinky, hurry up.
Of course I didn’t say that. Instead I just greeted his apology with a smile a muttered excuse about a long journey and being tired.
“First time in Philly, ma’am?”
“Yes, first time in the States actually”
I could have added first time travelling abroad on my own, first time travelling without my children since they were born, and first time being kissed at an airport by a man I met on the internet and so on.
“Well you picked a fine city to start in. Philly is a great place to explore. If you need any help getting round just ask but here is a map and I have marked the hotel on it for you”
Finally his welcome was over and he pushed my room key, the map and my reservation print out back across the counter.
“Room 609, take the elevator to 6 and turn left, would you like help with your bags?”
I declined and within moments I was in the elevator and we were sharing yet another kiss, long and urgent, cocooned in the mirrored box as it rose up through the building taking us ever closer to our final destination.
As I opened the door to our room I was momentarily taken aback. I don’t think I had ever been in such a beautiful hotel room, the bed was huge but then so was the room and it was all topped off by the large wall to wall window that overlooked Independence Park. The view was breathtaking across the historical old city of Philly, the streets below lined with trees bursting with pink blossom, the sky above a beautiful deep blue. It was like a picture postcard and I was fairly convinced that they must have made a mistake and that any minute there would be a knock on the door and I would be shown to my actual room; a windowless closet by the stairwell or something similar.
A hand in the small of my back and his breath on my neck jolted me out of my distracted thoughts
“I think it is time, don’t you?”
Whilst I had been lost in the view outside the window he had been opening his suitcase and finding the dressage whip he had purchased especially for this task. It might sound slightly odd that we were not tearing at each other’s clothes but this moment had been talked about so much before my arrival that it felt completely natural to start here, with a whipping.
I suppose I should have been nervous, I was, after all, in a hotel room with a man I had only just met in person for the first time and he was holding a whip with every intention of using it on me and the most we had actually shared had been a taxi ride and lots of kisses, but I wasn’t. I trusted him and I think maybe most of all I trusted myself and believed that I was doing the right thing. No one had ever whipped me before, in fact the most impact play I had done to date was some light spanking but the thought of giving myself over to this experience with this man-made the heat rage through my body like a river of lava, scorching everything in its path.
I lay forward over the edge of the bed and waited. He didn’t hurry, but I soon came to learn that he never hurries anything, particularly not when it involves hurting me. Flipping my skirt up over my arse he paused yet again, I can only assume to take in the view before gentle brushing his finger tips over my exposed flesh.
“Remember how many?” He asked
“Yes Sir, 27”
“Good girl” he replied
I had heard the sound of the whip slicing through the air a few times before on Skype when he showed me his purchase but this time it was different, this time it only registered briefly before it was driven from my mind by the stinging heat that cut across my arse as the whip planted its first of 27 evil kisses onto my flesh.
I didn’t cry out, not a scream anyway but I think a low moan rumbled in the back of my throat and my body twisted and jerked as the sensation of burning heat spread through me. He paused, and watched. I am fairly sure giving me time to change my mind but when he saw my fingers curl into a tight grip around the sheets and my back arch as I ready myself more he continued, faster with each strike, causing me to twitch and jerk as if every touch was sending a small electric current through my skin. When the last one landed he literally threw the whip from his hand. As he reached for the fly on his jeans I spun round on the bed to face him, drawing up my legs and offering myself to him for yet another first.
Just in case anyone is unaware this ‘story’ is in fact our story and a retelling of the first private moments we ever shared.