I’d been sat with a Cup-a-Soup watching Pointless in my budget-friendly hotel room for rather a long time when I realised my third client hadn’t shown up.
This was some years ago now, and I’d booked the room to spank my accountant, then a lawyer, and finally some random third dude I’d never met, who’d found me on X and seemed a decent enough egg. It was set to be a busy day.
The accountant rocked up, had a bath, a slapped face and a prostate massage, and told me he’d help me with my tax. The lawyer called me mummy, licked my stockings and had his anus flogged. Both of them have been clients of mine for nearly 20 years.
On account of the cursed needing-a-keycard-to-access-the-lifts requirement, I had to trot down to reception fairly regularly to see if client number three was lurking. He wasn’t.
I made friends with the receptionist, who must have twigged I was a good time girl from my many male visitors, but seemed immensely cool about it.
Thankfully, I’ve never been chucked out of a hotel mid-thwack, despite the hours of appalling noise I make. My friend Danielle has, even though she managed to hide in the wardrobe when the manager stormed in. She and her punter were both flung on the street in the middle of the night.
It’s a constant worry, particularly now, because Googling my name leaves no doubts as to my life choices. Once housekeeping did burst in on us, but backed out again with profound apologies, explaining she had the wrong room. I bet.
Eventually, I got a message. ‘I’m in the bar,’ it read.
So I squeezed my toes back into my stilettos and limped downstairs again, facing down the receptionist’s sympathetic smile. The bar was full of men. I sidled up to one, white-haired, despondent, clutching a newly poured beer.
‘Michael?’
‘Sorry, no, love. I’m Tony.’
I sighed heavily, and sat down anyway. Tony brightened.
‘Are you on a blind date?’ he asked.
‘No. I’m a dominatrix. Michael has arranged to meet me here for a spanking.’
The room quietened. ‘She wants Michael!’ a man mouthed to another, across the room. They both shrugged. The room was entirely devoid of Michaels.
Michael’s loss, however, appeared to be Tony’s gain.
‘My goodness! I mean, wow!’ he quickly said in awe. ‘I didn’t know people like you actually existed! Like, wow! Can I buy you a drink?’
‘Oh go on then, a house red,’ I replied.
Some polite chit chat revealed Tony had been stuck in this rather dreary hotel for work for a whole month. He was also divorced and evidently starved of female company. As we bonded, talk inevitably turned to kink.
‘So, Tony… have you ever been spanked?’
‘Never! But I’d try it. I’d try anything!’
I suspect if I’d suggested penetrating Tony with an acid-coated alligator he’d have been game, so long as I kept talking.
‘Well, come to my room, and I’ll give you a trial thrashing,’ I said, rendered giddy by boredom and plonk.
He was immensely and immediately keen, so we hopped off our stools and walked to the lift clutching our drinks. Once we were in my room, Tony did get a little nervy, poor chap.
I told him to get across my lap. Bless him, he lay face up, staring at the ceiling, until I coaxed him bum upwards instead. I gave him the gentlest of spankings with the palm of my hand, and tweaked his nipples. He whimpered.
‘How long since a woman touched your nipples, Tony?’ I asked.
He pondered. ‘I don’t think any woman ever has, honestly.’
Tony had been married twenty years – I wanted to weep. His spanking only lasted five minutes but I could tell he was grateful for the attention.
We hugged after, and then he practically skipped out the room, telling me this was the best night he’d ever had. Ever. I packed my gear, and saluted my charming new receptionist buddy, before heading home.
I later found out that Michael had been sitting in another budget hotel bar three miles down the road, and sent my fee alongside profound apologies, so no harm done.
And Tony? I never heard from him again, but I reckon he’s still smiling.
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