Please enjoy this erotic short story by Jayden:

I stood on the balcony, looking out over the city. It was beautiful. The breeze on the hotel balcony made me shiver just a touch. I crossed my arms, wrapping them around myself. I thought about getting a jacket or just going inside, but I didn’t want to. My nipples hardened under my sheer shirt as I looked out into the dark.

I heard the door open and shut. I turned to look, but I couldn’t see the door. “Hey,” I called, assuming it was my Dominant back from a drink at the bar. He’d invited me to join him, but I was more interested in not putting on real clothes.

He didn’t respond, but I figured the wind probably stole my voice away.

I turned back and looked out over the city again. The tiny people walking on the sidewalk looked no bigger than ants. I breathed in deeply and could smell the salt of the sea air. I closed my eyes to focus on the glorious scent.

I had left the door to the hotel room propped open, and I heard someone step through. My Dom, of course.

His hands wrapped around me, and the first tingle of fear slid down my spine. Maybe this wasn’t my Dom. In fact, I knew it wasn’t. His hands were different. He was taller. Before I could finish processing it, his hand was over my mouth. “Pineapple,” he whispered in my ear, and I knew that it was okay. Whoever he was, my Dom had sent him. It was our safe word.

Before I knew what was happening, he slipped a blindfold over my eyes. I tried to see out of the corners, but there wasn’t anything to see.

“Put your hands on the railing and don’t move them.”

I did as he said, shaking with excitement and nerves. I tried to picture what I looked like. I hadn’t been expecting company. I couldn’t remember if I’d shaved my pussy that morning. I did most days, but my mind was blank. I knew my nipples were standing at attention under my sheer shirt. I was wearing booty shorts and no panties, and I was sure that I would be soaking through my shorts.

I wanted to whimper or beg or something, but I didn’t. I was as silent as though he had gagged me. I felt his hands on my hips, and he pulled at them, forcing me to lean back and eventually even move my feet back. I was leaning then, my ass clearly presented to him. “Stay just like that, slut.”

Even though I couldn’t see beyond the blindfold, I had my eyes open, but I closed them then. Was it wrong that I liked that he’d called me slut? Master usually called me slut, and I loved it then, too. And boy did I feel slutty, doing what this total stranger told me. Not being able to see, not fighting or doing anything.

His hands left my hips and slid up my sides underneath my shirt. His fingers trailed their way up to my breasts, and he cupped the large globes in his palms and squeezed my nipples. I couldn’t stop the moan from tearing from my throat. It felt so good to be touched like that. Without realizing it, I started grinding my hips back against him. I could feel his hard cock through layers of fabric. It felt big. I wanted to know how big. I wanted to wrap my fingers around it. I wanted to feel it pressed into the back of my throat. I was nearly desperate for it.

I tried not to. I literally bit my lip trying to stop the words from coming out, but I was unsuccessful. “Please,” I moaned.

He chuckled, “Please what? Please stop? Please don’t touch me?”

I moaned. I could tell that he would catch me in a lie, but I couldn’t say the words I really wanted to say. “No, please don’t, please stop. I don’t even know who you are!” He chuckled again. I liked the rich sound. “Please!” I cried.

“Do you want to fight me, slut?”

“N-no,” I stammered.

“If you want me to stop, you have to stop me.”

I picked my hands up off the railing, and he smacked my ass. Even through the fabric of my shorts, it stung. I whimpered. I loved it.

He spanked me again, and I moaned. “You don’t sound like you want me to stop.”

I slowly shook my head. Even though I felt like I should argue with him, I didn’t want to.

He pressed his crotch up against my ass again and leaned in close. His breath was hot on my ear. “Tell me you don’t want me to stop, slut.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“Is that a polite way to address a Dom?” he asked.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“That’s better.” His hands slipped up my shirt to my nipples again, playing with the hard buds. I wasn’t cold anymore. I felt like my skin was on fire. “Tell me again.”

At first, I wasn’t sure what he was asking me to tell him again. It took me a moment to remember. I felt like all the blood in my body was pooling at my core. That’s such a male cliche, but it happens to me when I get turned on, too. “I don’t want you to stop, Sir.”

“Good. I wasn’t going to stop anyway.”

My pussy clenched with arousal at his words, and I pressed my ass back against him.

“What do you want, slut?”

My mouth opened and closed a bunch of times but no words came out.

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Thanks for reading! Tomorrow, we’re back with 30 Days of Submission!