Room 54 - Book Three of The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (5 page)

Scared that Mrs Peters would somehow read her mind again and think that was what she wanted, Jess tried to concentrate on something else, but it was impossible, and she wasn’t at all surprised when the door to Room 54 re-opened and two palms unceremoniously slapped her arse, making her body judder and the dildo dance within her.

Half crying, half mewling, Jess felt herself reacting to the hands that swapped spanking for smoothing their way up and down her legs. Male hands Jess judged by their size, but they didn’t feel like Lee’s. She felt as if she was being polished, as the yells from the screen reached a tumultuous conclusion.

Her previous climax seemed a lifetime ago, but Jess was convinced Mrs Peters wouldn’t be impressed if she came again so soon. Managing to breathe steadily, despite all that had happened to her, Jess flinched as another slap met her right buttock, and the television was switched off.

A further smack landed on her left side. Jess’s teeth bit hard into the rope, and she felt an odd ripple of pride as she successfully held in her cry of pain.

Everything sped up then. The smacks rained harder and faster, and the hammock swung perilously.

Suddenly, there was Mrs Peters, attired as carefully as ever in a stunning maroon basque and suspenders. She knelt beneath Jess with all the haughty dignity of an empress. ‘You appear to be enjoying your training in Room 54.’

“Enjoying” wasn’t the word Jess would have chosen. She concentrated on not whining as the beating continued, each stroke putting extra strain on her tits and pussy.

‘I’m sure you have a lot going on in your mind at the moment, so I’ll clarify the situation for you.’ Mrs Peters lay full length on the floor beneath Jess so she didn’t have to crick her neck to talk to her.

Jess watched her boss, so close, yet untouchable, knowing that her chest dangled just inches from potential stimulation.

‘I do hope you’ve appreciated the background accompaniment I provided for you. Lee had a very happy hour putting that short film together. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen him so stiff.’

Biting harder into the hammock, Jess could feel the rope begin to cut at the sides of her mouth as Mrs Peters critically assessed her. For a glorious split second Jess thought she was going to reach out and touch her, and she couldn’t contain her sigh of disappointment when that didn’t happen.

‘You must curb that impatience, child.’ The manageress put her hands to her own breasts, and Jess felt jealousy shoot from every fibre of her being as the older woman pleasured herself instead of her. ‘Where was I? Oh yes, your chest is gorgeously restrained, I just adore the way it wobbles each time Mr Proctor (you remember him I’m sure), spanks your backside. A backside, I must say, that is decidedly trimmer than when you arrived with us five weeks ago. Miss Sarah must be congratulated on such an effective exercise routine, you are both fitter and yet not horribly thin. I’ll never understand women who believe men like stick women. Anyway, I digress.

Most interestingly of all, however, is that dildo so firmly wedged inside you; I can appreciate how strange it must feel, Miss Sanders. Incredibly wide, pushing the walls of your channel to their capacity, and yet at the same time, it has no weight to it at all.’

Beads of sweat dribbled down Jess’s breasts, a glistening drip hung from her left nipple. Jess willed it not to fall, but her willpower was not enough to defeat gravity.

As the moisture hit Mrs Peters flesh, she spoke coolly, ‘It appears you are rather hot. Perhaps you’d like a nice wet tongue to lap at you for a while?’

Jess’s fervent nod made Mrs Peters laugh. ‘Now, two things are about to happen, and I think it’s only fair to warn you about them.’

Every hair on Jess’s body stood on end. If Mrs Peters felt she needed warning then it had to be something pretty extreme.

‘The first is that you are to have some company in here; the second is that the hammock you are resting on is attached to its frame by a pivot system. It can therefore be made lower and higher at will. This is about to happen.’

A cold shiver engulfed Jess, and her fingers automatically gripped the sides of the hammock so tightly her skin began to whiten.

‘You’ve had only one climax so far, I’m impressed. However, whether you stay here, employed on the fifth floor will depend on how long you can go without another one. If you can beat the time of your predecessor, before you grant your body the freedom to let go, then you’ll be allowed to stay.’

Jess’s voice was croaky, ‘How long did she last?’

Mrs Peters merely smiled and shook her head, ‘I’ll tell you that afterwards.’

Jess had almost forgotten about the artist. His confinement in the study seemed an eternity ago. Yet, now Mr Wheeler was standing before her. Naked, his wrists bound in front of him, his solid penis sheathed, his body radiating desire.

Jess wondered if he’d caved in, if he’d finally agreed, once and for all, to be the slave the manageress wanted him to be, or if he’d been enduring further punishment of his own. He certainly looked as frantic for some relief as she felt.

‘Into position please, Sam.’ On Mrs Peters’ words the artist lay down beneath Jess, in almost exactly the same position his lover had occupied only moments before.

With little choice but to peer into his eyes, Jess took in their greed as he stared, not at her face, but at her breasts. She wished he was able to touch them.

Tilting her chin as much as she dared, Jess flicked her gaze over Sam’s body. His dick was sticking up like an incongruous flag pole.

‘Thank you, Master Philips.’ Mrs Peters signalled to Lee, who stood at the other end of the hammock, and suddenly Jess let out a gut wrenching squeal as it dropped. Her eyes streamed and her stomach flipped at her sudden drop, as the rope rocked and hot stabbing pains flared through her breasts.

Mr Wheeler had obviously been expecting the hammock to fall, but he couldn’t contain a flinch as it came towards him. Jess could feel his breath on her face. This was a worse torture than anything that had gone before. Sparks of pure want surged between them, both wanting, both desperate.

With pussy-twitching frustration Jess waited, every second lasting forever, making it impossible for her to judge how much time had gone by.

Miss Sarah and Lee remained at the head and foot of the hammock. No one spoke. No one moved. Her neck ached and her fingers and toes felt numb with the effort of gripping. Mr Wheeler was so close to her, but he might as well have been a million miles away. His eyes remained fixed on her tits, which glowed red after being trapped and hanging for so long.

The artist’s hands fidgeted against his chest. He could so easily have lifted them up at the elbows and handled her. Jess could imagine how much determination he was employing to stop himself from doing just that.

Without warning, the hammock dropped another inch, and Jess’s stomach lurched, and a lump of bile rose in her throat. The air danced between them as Jess yelled out in shock. Sam grunted at their frustrating closeness.

Jess could smell her companion now. Sweat mixed with the sticky scent of precome and heavy lust. Only one more inch and Mr Wheeler’s dick would be brushing her skin, teasing its wet head against her mound. Jess tried and failed to stop thinking how good that would be, how amazing it would feel if the hammock dropped again, when her body would only be separated from the artist’s by the ropes alone, her chest crushed against his, his cock pushing to get into her already full pussy. She closed her eyes. If she kept thinking like that she’d come before another finger was laid on her, which she suspected was Mrs Peters’ intention.

Not bothering to disguise her heavy breathing, Jess panted hot air over the man below, wondering what would happen if he came before her.

As the seconds ticked by, Jess braced herself.
Surely the hammock will move again soon?
How will I be able to stop myself climaxing?
Sam’s wearing a condom, so he must be expecting to fuck – but will it be me he screws?
Her exhaustion was forgotten; only the determination to succeed remained.

Sam raised his elbows a fraction and Jess’s breath snagged in her throat as she thought some attention was about to be given to her tits, only for it to turn into a groan as he overcome his moment’s weakness and returned his tethered arms to his chest.

Then Miss Sarah was standing next to them, a half smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Remaining quiet, she edged past, taking care not to touch them. Then, with her delicate fingers she undid the belt that kept the hollow dildo in place. Jess whimpered as the thick plastic was eased out of her, leaving her emptier and wider, than she’d ever been before.

A new urgency consumed Jess. She needed to be refilled. And she needed it now. Nothing else mattered. She could feel the liquid that had gathered around the plug smeared against her snatch and drip onto the prisoner below, whose own moans told Jess his desire to fuck her was growing out of all proportion now the way was clear for his cock.

Flames of agony coursed through her breasts as, finally, the hammock fell again There was now only a thin film of air between her and the artist. If she strained, she could probably rub the rope of the hammock against his body. If Sam arched his back a little, his cock would tease the light hairs of her pussy.

This battle of wills was no longer between Jess and Mrs Peters’ training, but between her and Sam, to see who’d succumb to temptation and move first.

Chapter Six

Room 54 stank of sex. Its aroma filled every crevice. Into the silence, only punctuated by the shallow breath of the two players in Mrs Peters’ game, the television screen flashed back on, and the echoes of past fucks swamped the room.

Jess assumed it was probably her getting screwed on the screen, but that didn’t matter any more. What did matter was that she wasn’t getting screwed at that very moment, and the sound of her past satisfaction was only making things worse.

She heard a whisper. She thought she’d imagined it at first, but there it was again. Jess opened her eyes and stared straight into Sam’s. He was looking at her with an increased urgency, obviously trying to communicate without letting the unseen audience on the other side of the camcorder know.

Above the sound of the television Jess could barely hear him, but eventually she worked out he was saying, ‘Let’s move together.’

Struggling to keep her composure so she didn’t give them away, Jess inclined her head a tiny fraction, hoping Sam would understand her acquiescence. She saw his left hand, cupped and hidden beneath his right, unfurl three fingers. He was going to count them down.

Three, two ...
Jess readied herself to push all her weight downwards, not sure if she’d actually be able to move the hammock within its pivot or not
... one.

Sam, rather than arch his back to reach her, shot his bound wrists upwards and clawed his fingers through the rope weave. As Jess wriggled and pushed down, he pulled hard, his muscles straining, until suddenly, a small creak indicated that their plan was working. With a final lurch, the pivot twisted and let out a piercing metallic squeal as the hammock moved with unaccustomed speed, crashing Jess on top of the artist with a blissfully heavy thump.

Crying out in anguished pain for her squashed and unbearably sore breasts, yet consumed with indescribable relief, Jess relished the sensation of male skin beneath her. Manoeuvring his arms clumsily between them, the artist positioned his fingers so they could flick and caress her nipples and breasts as best they could. Raising his hips, Sam bucked and squirmed until he had lined his cock up with Jess’s cunt. With a sigh of, ‘At last,’ he pushed himself inside her, and with a simultaneous pinch of her right nipple, as Jess’s fingers scrabbled away from the rope to rake over the sides of his body, they both came in a instant violent rush of long suppressed lust.

The single clap was long, drawn out and slow. ‘Well done!’ Mrs Peters voice was sarcastic, ‘You both obviously have more initiative than I had credited you with. Clever – leaving me unsure who to blame. How can I possibly decide who broke first when you moved with such perfect simultaneous timing?’

Neither the artist nor the clerk spoke as, still on top of each other, the rope hammock stuck to them with sweat and come, they waited for Mrs Peters to finish her diatribe.

‘I have no doubt, however, that when I play back the tape and examine things more closely, I will see that Mr Wheeler was the initiator of this joint venture. You are not a stupid girl, Miss Sanders, but I believe you were too far down the line of desperation to have formed any sort of logical plan.’

As the manageress continued to stare down at her lover and administrator, she beckoned for Miss Sarah and Master Philips to approach and ease the players away from the hammock.

‘You will shower, eat, and sleep. I will see you both in the Victorian Study at exactly 9 a.m. tomorrow.’ Then Mrs Peters walked stiffly from the room, leaving Sam and Jess bruised, shaking with the aftermath of their climaxes and unprecedented tiredness, and each questioning their future with Mrs Peters and the Fables Hotel.

Dressed in her rather crumpled work suit, Jess winced as the cups of her cotton bra chaffed at the sides of her breasts, both of which had deep red welts surrounding them from the imprint of the rope hammock.

Despite two hot showers since the previous night, Jess’s palms felt tacky with the perspiration of uncertainty. As she sat on the chaise longue in the study waiting for Mrs Peters to speak, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was how criminals felt when the judge was about the deliver his verdict.

Mr Wheeler, more casually attired in clean clothes, sat next to Jess. She could feel the tension of what they’d shared the night before buzzing between them. Unlike her, though, his head was not bowed as he awaited their fate. He held his would-be lover’s gaze with an unflinching confidence that Jess could only envy.

The manageress, freshly suited for a day’s work, sat at the desk, her back straight, her head held high. Her expression was unreadable as she regarded her two projects with equal calm, as if she was a scientist deliberating the findings of a particularly complex experiment.

‘Firstly, Miss Sanders.’ Jess’s stomach turned over and the familiar sensation of butterflies stormed through her system. ‘You should know that, until you and Mr Wheeler colluded together and activated your orgasms, you lasted 43 minutes. That, I am pleased to say, is three and a half minutes longer than your predecessor.’

Jess felt a rush of pride as she listened, waiting to hear that she could now stay on the fifth floor, but instead Mrs Peters said, ‘You may go to your desk. I am sure the work is piling up.’

Feeling totally wrong footed, Jess opened her mouth to ask if she’d be staying, but closed it again when she saw Mrs Peters was no longer paying her any attention. Standing, shaky from nerves, and still full of the uncertainty she’d nursed all night, Jess left the Victorian study behind her.

‘That was a smart move in Room 54, Sam.’ Laura Peters stood from behind her desk, ‘Very clever.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I am beginning to see that in one respect I was quite wrong about you.’

‘Is that so?’ Sam stood too, and took a step towards the window seat where he’d been so unceremoniously restrained several hours before.

‘You’re no slave. We’re equals. Your conniving with Miss Sanders proved that. I suggest we remain equals.’

The artist tilted his head, ‘Which means what exactly?’

‘You should come here and run the fifth floor with me. You have your guests, I’ll have my guests, and we’ll share guests, and train the staff together. Then, when the day’s work is over, we can amuse each other.’

‘I’m an artist and a graphic designer. I’m not a pro or a pimp.’

Laura Peters’ gentle voice was suddenly edged with steel, ‘And I am the manageress of a very successful hotel offering adult entertainment. I am not a prostitute or a pimp. NO ONE comes here or stays here unless they want to.’

‘Point taken.’ Sam looked from Laura to the view outside the velvet draped window. It didn’t matter that his desk was overflowing with designs demanding his attention; he knew that would never satisfy him now. ‘I will still paint, but otherwise I agree.’

The manageress nodded solemnly, before allowing the flicker of a smile to cross her face, ‘Good.’

Confusion rattled around Jess’s brain as she made her way to her small office.
Surely I can’t have been sacked, or Mrs Peters wouldn’t have sent me to the office to work? Am I staying here, but as a clerk? Could I cope with just being the office girl now that I’ve been through so much? I beat my predecessor’s time, just as I was instructed to do. That should be enough – although I guess I cheated a bit. Did that make a difference? Will I be like Lee, a reserve for the fifth floor, but a hotel worker in the main?

Jess’s mind was still processing all the possibilities when she reached the office door. Miss Sarah was sitting on her seat.

‘I need your help.’

‘My help?’ Jess’s aching chest hardened as she regarded the woman before her.

‘Yes. We are interviewing for your replacement this afternoon, your knowledge of the job in question will be useful.’

‘My replacement?’ Jess’s heart hammered faster.
So they are getting rid of me.

‘On this occasion Mrs Peters has agreed with the overall manager, Mr Davies, that an administrator with no connection to the top floor would be the best option, assuming you wouldn’t mind taking responsibility for the fifth floor bookings. Part of your room will have to be used as an office between your hostess duties.

Jess’s mouth opened and closed, but it was a few seconds before the words came out, ‘I can stay?’

‘Of course, Miss Sanders. We have been advertising your position for some time now.’

‘But...?’ Nonplussed, Jess tried to make sense of what she was hearing. ‘Then why last night? Why all the tests if Mrs Peters had already decided to keep me on?’

Standing, Miss Sarah treated Jess to one of her rare smiles, ‘Because it did you good, and you needed the experience. Plus, we wanted to make sure you weren’t too good to be true. We all want to work with you, but if you’d known that, you might have relaxed and not worked nearly so hard to stay. Besides, you enjoyed it.’

‘I ...’ Deciding against denying her enjoyment of the hammock experience, a strange mix of excited but terrified victory swept through Jess as she flicked a glance in her colleague’s direction, before hastily dropping her eyes again. ‘I thought you hated me, but then, after the time in your room, I wondered ...’ Jess found she couldn’t finish the sentence, and was relieved when Miss Sarah cut in.

‘Submissives like you are hard to find. You are attractive without being ridiculously thin, obedient, brave and willing to adapt. Your position on the fifth floor has been secure since you met Madam with me in the hospital room, but we had to be sure that you’d still want to stay once you’d been pushed to the limit.’ Pulling at her short skirt to smooth it over her thighs, Miss Sarah moved towards the door, leaving a gob-smacked Jess staring after her. ‘The interviews are at 2 p.m. I’d like you to attend.’

‘Right.’

‘Well, come on then.’ The mistress smiled again, the gesture softening her angular features for a second as she held out her hand.

‘Come on where?’

‘To see your new room of course. Permanent employees of the fifth floor find it more convenient to live on site, and while we’re there, I think it’s high time you had another exercise class, it doesn’t do to let these things slip.’

Doing her best not to grin like the proverbial Cheshire cat, Jess took the offered hand and lowered her eyes like the good little submissive she’d become, ‘Of course, Miss Sarah,’ keeping the now familiar gush of longing between her legs a secret, for the moment at least ...

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