The Perfect Submissive

Laura Peters' mind went into overdrive. Flicking through a variety of possible erotic scenarios, she placed him at the mercy of a large muscular man, begging to be skewered up the arse on his magnificent cock. She saw him bound and gagged; a darkly tanned figure bent over his chest, stroking him relentlessly with a split-tailed whip. Perhaps he was writhing on a four-poster bed, awaiting a woman's eager tongue against his balls; a woman who'd just spent the last hour teasing his body with silk scarves...

Snapping her mind back to reality, the manageress glanced at the wooden-cased grandfather clock that stood behind the hotel bar. It was a couple of minutes to 11.00 p.m. and the poised man at the corner table, who'd sparked her imagination so powerfully, had been watching her for a least half an hour.

Sitting alone on a padded stool, her back resting against the bar, Laura could clearly picture the thoughts running through his mind. Is she an escort or a prostitute? A business woman travelling alone to a conference? Does she have a partner about to join her? She knew it wouldn't occur to him that she was the co-runner of the Fables Country Hotel in which he was staying.

Shaking out the long russet hair that hung down her neck, Laura felt it smother her shoulders. Fixing her bright green eyes on one of the ghastly paintings that adorned the hotel lounge's walls, she hid her smile as the guest continued to observe her. She wondered when he would make a move. He was, or appeared to be, exactly what she was looking for.

Without giving the stranger the satisfaction of seeing her glance at him in return, Laura mentally weighed up his appearance. At approximately 5' 9', he was only an inch taller than her, and she guessed his age to be in the region of 35. His short-sleeved shirt revealed his arms to be muscular without being overworked, and as he sipped at his pint of beer she noticed the signs of a small tattoo peek from beneath his casually smart polo-shirt sleeve, although she was unable to see precisely what it depicted. Reining in her thoughts from too much speculation as to the nature and extent of his body art, Laura continued her silent summary of his physical attributes.

The short brown hair that framed a roughly shaved face was speckled with the first flecks of grey. Almost square in shape, his rugged confident face held deep brown eyes. Those eyes seemed to hold so much promise, and Laura felt a frisson of lust trip down her spine as she wondered what it was going to feel like when he locked them on to her own and begged her to make him come, pleaded with her to... Laura took a deep breath. She was convinced that it would happen, and was already quietly looking forward to seeing how he would cope with what she had in mind.