The waiting continued. As part of the preparations I had to turn the room heater on high. As I sat there the cheap noisy heater in front of the window blew hot air on me. At first it was just noisy, but now it was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. It had to be eighty degrees in here. Under the hood it was much hotter.

The hood retained my heat. I could feel drops of sweat running down the back of my neck and under my eyes. The supple leather was no longer glove soft. The moisture made it irritating. I had to get it off. My panicking only added to my misery. Itches went untouched. I tried getting those spots by rubbing my head against my shoulder. Panic is never a good thing. In all my past experiences the top would tell me to breathe, concentrate on your breathing. And that's what I tried to do. I made big breaths making sure I blew all of my air out of the mouth hole so none of it would escape into the hood.

Self-bondage and being left alone in bondage is always risky. Things can and often do go wrong. I knew I was not in a good spot. I had done this to myself, for someone I have never met in person. I had gone against all the advice I was ever give. How stupid could I have been?

I was covered in sweat. I could feel beads of sweat run down my back and into the crack of my ass. I had made sure I was bathed and smooth before I came. I even cleaned my bowels for him. Now I felt like I was in the middle of a workout. And I am sure I smelled like it too.

The mantra I kept repeating in my head, "you will be alright, you will be alright'. That's when I heard the door open.

"Room service" the male voice said as the door opened. My brain didn't have the time to process if it was really room service or not, because I shouted out, "Please get it off me, Please!!"

"Very nice" was all that was said. I could hear and feel him walking around me as if to check out the situation I had put myself in. Then a straw was placed through the opening in the hood and into my mouth. Sipping the cold-water help put me to ease. He then turned off the heater.

Standing right next to me “I see you are warmed up. Do not talk unless you are spoken to.” The first touch came from his hand cupping and lifting my breast. Picking it up and letting it fall back to my torso. The same was done with my other breast. "Oh these are going to be a lot of fun." The flopping around of my tits continued while I flashed on our conversation about breast play. I recalled telling him how much I liked it and how I responded better to it than I did pussy torment. His part of the conversation was about needles and nails. Our exchanged ended with him asking if I would offer my tits to him for his pleasure. A simple 'yes' was said at the time.

He was no longer cupping my breasts to raise them. His fingers were now doing the work. Pinching my nipples he used that grip to lift and distort the natural shape of my breasts before dropping them again. My breathing rate increased as his hold on my nipples increased. Then holding only one nipple in his fingers he pulled my tit out as far as it would go. A hard slap came down on my vulnerable tit. A cry came from under the hood.

The hand that was holding my nipple now grabbed my pubic hair. He pulled my hips to the edge of the chair, “Spread your legs open”. As his grip loosen on my hair, I felt ashamed how easy it was for him to slip his middle and ring fingers into me. My hips bucked as he passed his thumb over my clit. “Such a whore. I wonder what your husband would think?”

These acts were not about pleasure. They were about power and control. B had stepped away from me. It was then that I heard the drawer slide open and the zipper on my purse open.

Until now we only knew our online personas. This was quickly changing. Comments were made about the family photo that was in my wallet. He read out loud my address. I felt violated by him knowing all these details about me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Our personal lives where to be off limits.

“Please, I have to go to the bathroom.” I said. “So go” was the reply. This is how the conversation went, until it was made clear I could go or not go, that it was my choice. As he continued to comment on the discoveries he made in my purse, I could no longer hold my pee. I let it go, making a mess on the carpeted floor, my legs, and the chair. “I am thinking the motel is going to be charging your card for that.”

During all of this the racket going from the family in the next room as apparent. While it didn’t occur to me then, I often think about how different things can be going on at the same time. Kids watching Disney in one room and just a few feet away a Sadist sizing up his prey in the next.

The knife blade was right up next to my breast. Then the point of it pressed into my soft flesh. Panic entered my mind again. Permanent marking were not to be on the table. Running the blade down over my stomach I was told to spread my legs again. The point found my clit and I jumped as it was pressed into me. I was warned to be still or suffered the consequences. It continued down my legs until it reached to rope that was securing my legs. With ease both pieces were cut and my ankles were freed.

As soon as that happen he flipped the chair foreword. In a split second I was laying on my stomach with the chair on top of me. The force of the action hurt my shoulders and crushed my breasts. I was stunned with the quickness and power of the movement. Using his body weight on me, he quickly uncuffed and recuffed my hands in front of me. As soon as that was done, the leather cuffs on my ankles were locked together.

“The walls are too thin to play here,” he said as I was stuffed into an oversize suitcase.