Carson March
15 mins read
Published over 3 years ago

am sitting on the edge of the hotel room bed, fully dressed: a simple summer sundress, with a fitted cardigan sweater over it. It’s sunny but with a little spring breeze outside. Inside, I don’t really need the sweater but the room is cool and dark and it’s nice to have my shoulders covered. Anyway, I’m nervous and clothing is a sort of armor, isn’t it?

I’ve been sitting here for a half hour already. As always, I had arrived at the hotel at 7 p.m. precisely and approached the front desk, asking the clerk if there was anything for Ms. March. As always, there was. 

This time, a small box. Sometimes what is waiting for me is a simple small envelope; other times, a large garment box that takes two arms to carry. But today it was a small parcel, about half the size of a shoe box. I sat in one of the armchairs in the lobby and opened it carefully – a box typically indicates an item of some kind within, and it’s best not to let prying eyes see.

Inside is a key card, a hand-written note, and a simple length of black satin. The note reads: 

My Beautiful Toy… 

Please go up to our room, #1528 on the 15th floor, and wait for me. I am having a drink with a colleague and will return when I am done. As discussed, he will be joining us this evening. Though we have already talked about this, we will re-examine it together when we get there. Please sit at the edge of the bed. Do not undress. Keep the blindfold in your lap. You are mine, pet, and I will always keep you safe. 


So formal, I thought to myself, smiling. I love the way he writes and speaks – perhaps because he sounds so calm and in control most of the time, but then when that tone shifts, when his words become less controlled, I know how excited he truly is.

I had put the lid back on the box, keeping the key card out, and went up – as requested – to room 1528. I opened the curtains wide, knowing that he will want to see the view of the city lights and the setting sun when he returns. I freshened up quickly in the washroom, turned off all the lights except for one low-light lamp on the desk, and then took my spot on the bed.

My fingers run over and over the silky length of material. It is perhaps four inches wide, and long enough to wrap around my head twice with enough left over to tie it in the back. I know, because I have worn this blindfold many times with Sir.

The bed is so tall that my legs dangle over the edge, not long enough to reach the floor. Everything I am wearing was decided by Sir, several days ago. He always chooses what I will wear when I come to see him. Today, it is this flowered sundress, white cardigan, white summer high heels. Underneath, a soft pink lace bra and matching lace panty, the colour of tea roses. 

Just as the size of the item left for me at the front desk varies, so too does the garments he chooses. Today is a simple, sweet outfit. Other times it may be a fancy dress, something to wear out to a nice restaurant or to the theatre. Underneath I may be wearing stockings, garters… or nothing at all. Sometimes the box waiting for me at the desk has some new item that he has chosen for me, with instructions to change into it. Whatever Sir tells me to wear, I wear.

I hear some talk and laughter in the hallway at the door and sit up straight. Is it them? My heart is racing. But no, the sounds pass the door and carry on down the corridor. Not Sir… or Sir’s friend.

We have discussed this already – an idea I mentioned as a teasing joke, in part to see what his response might be. Sir is not inclined to share, but I confess the notion of being shared had occupied quite a few fantasies over the last year or so, and joking about it was an easy way to bring it into conversation. Of course, Sir knew exactly what I was doing.

“Would you want to, my pet?” he asked, his hand caressing over my head as we lay in bed one night.

“Would I want to for real? I don’t know. I think so. But only if you wanted to,” I replied. “If it would please you.”

Sir chuckled.

“Oh, yes? If it pleases me, eh? Are you telling me the idea doesn’t excite you? I think it does or you’d not have mentioned it.”

“Well…,” I hesitated. “I like making you happy. I like pleasing you. It makes me excited to think of but because I imagine you wanting to.”

“Pet, do you mean you imagine me making you do it?”

He knows me too well. All the dirty things I want to do but, for some reason, seem to need permission to – or need to be made to, so that I’m somehow magically not to blame.

“Hmmm,” I answered, non-committal.

He took my chin in his hand and gently pulled my head up to look at him.

“Tell me, pet. Do you imagine me making you do it?”


“Yes what?”

“Yes, I imagine you making me do it.”


And that had been the end of it. Weeks had passed and it hadn’t been mentioned again so I assumed that Sir had simply let the idea die off. I am Sir’s and he is not inclined to share.

But here I am, sitting on the edge of this bed waiting for Sir – and he’s bringing someone with him. My hands are sweating as I think of it. What might they do with me? What if I don’t like it? What if –

And then there’s no more time to wonder anything. A click in the door, and suddenly it is swinging open.

“Sir…” I whisper, breathless. I’m so nervous. I can feel my pulse racing.

His frame fills the door and for a second I think perhaps plans have changed, and he is alone. But then as he moves into the room, a second figure enters behind him.

“Ohhh,” I breathe out. My mouth is dry and, I’m sure, my eyes are wide, my face a pinkish hue.

“My beautiful girl,” Sir says quietly, moving towards me.

As he comes over, he grabs the desk chair, and pulls it alongside the bed, sits down next to me and motions to his friend to take the chair. Sir is to my left, the stranger in front and slightly to my right. I can’t seem to look at either of them, and stare at the blindfold in my hands in my lap.

“You look beautiful, pet,” says Sir, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Don’t be nervous, love. I’m here.”

I lean slightly into his side, feeling his warmth, catching the scent of him. My Sir. How I miss him when he’s gone, how I crave him when he’s away. How familiar and intoxicating his presence – I never tire of the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on me.

I feel myself calming at his words.

“Look at me,” he demands, and when I do, he smiles. “My gorgeous girl. You look wonderful. I’ve missed you.”

He leans in and kisses me and for a second I forget that we are not alone, forget that we are being watched, and I sink into his taste.

When he ends the kiss, he runs his thumb over my lips.

“So perfect,” he murmurs.

A slight shifting in the chair next to me brings my attention back to our visitor.

“Baby girl, this is my friend, Alan.”

I brave a glance up at him. He is handsome – not as handsome as Sir, I think to myself, but a good-looking man. Like Sir, he’s dressed in a suit. They obviously went straight from the office for dinner and drinks, and then here.

“Alan,” I say, nodding.

I can tell he’s a little nervous too, but more than that, he’s excited. Has he ever done anything like this, I wonder? How much have they discussed and planned before arriving here?

Sir continues: “Alan, this is C, my lovely pet. Just so we are all on the same page here: C is mine. She belongs to me, and we have an agreement between us about what that means. It would be a bit complicated to get into but it’s enough to say that what I ask of her, she does for me, within the limits of what she willingly and happily consents to. Nothing happens here without consent. Clear?”

Alan nods.

“Pet, I will share you, only with your consent. Do you want to do this, truly? No playing right now – you need to be very honest.”

I nod.

“No, a nod is not enough. I need to hear you say it. Anything less, we stop now, say good night and carry on.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. I want to do this.”

“And what does ‘this’ include,” Sir asks.

“I want you to share me, in whatever capacity you choose.”

“Are you certain?”


“Are you excited?”

Sir pins me with his eyes then, looking deeply – like a scientist trying to examine a new discovery. He wants to be certain I want this.

I grin.

“I am very excited. Very, very excited. Sir.”

I look over again at Alan, letting my eyes linger on his face, then chest, then to his crotch.   

“I want to, Sir. Very much.”

He leans over and kisses at my ear, then whispers: “Good. I want to, too. I’m going to make you do the dirtiest things, my love.”

I feel a flood of arousal and need – a literal dampening between my legs as his words sink in.

Sir stands up, and turns to Alan.

“All right then. Her safe word is ‘enough’ – if she says enough, you must stop immediately. It’s my job to keep her safe, all the time, so if I say enough the same goes, obviously.”

Alan grins. “Ok, sounds good.”

I suddenly think of something, and shoot my hand up, like I’m in class.

“Oh wait! I said you could share me in whatever capacity you wanted to. But… well…”

“Yes, love?”

“It’s just…” I blush a little, looking at Sir.

“You have to tell me, pet.”

“Not spanking. That’s only for you.”

Sir smiles at me, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, pet, I agree. A good rule. No spanking. And I won’t tie you. A new companion is plenty for one night. But we will use the blindfold, all right?”

I nod.

Sir moves to the dresser top, and asks over his shoulder: “Alan, wine?”

Alan stands and takes the glass of wine, and Sir directs them back to the couch and armchair on the other side of the large room. After Alan is seated, Sir returns to stand in front of me.

“We have some work to finish up. You will wait for us, sitting here. Blindfold please.”

I hand up the silky length, and he takes it from me. He lays it over my eyes, and wraps it around, then ties it behind my head. I can see mostly blackness, with the tiniest fringe of low light just at the bottom edge.

I feel Sir’s face, close to mine, his breath on my cheeks.

“Pet,” he says and kisses me lightly. “You look so pretty like this.”

He stands and walks away, returning to Alan.

They sip their wine and begin talking. At first I think they will be only a minute or two, a faux “work discussion” simply to make me wait – but the conversation goes on and on, and they’re talking about all manner of things, sorting out future plans for an upcoming change in the company and even looking at paperwork that Sir has pulled out – I can hear the ruffling of pages as they go over things.

I want to tap my foot as my anxiety builds but my feet are too high off the ground to do it. I keep my hands together in my lap, but squeeze my thighs. This feels endless. In the dark of the blindfold, it seems like it becomes harder to evaluate the time and I don’t know if it’s been 15 minutes or an hour. I start to zone out, not listening to their words, lulled by the general hum of their conversation.

Suddenly I hear them stand. Sir has said something that has made Alan laugh, and I can tell by their footfalls that they have approached the bed.

“Well, my friend… what do you think of my girl?” says Sir.

I can hear a beaming sort of pride in his voice. Sir thinks I am the most amazing thing he’s ever known and doesn’t doubt that anyone else would think the same. I try to keep a serene and calm look on my face but the tone of his voice makes me want to grin.

“She’s very… lovely,” says Alan.

“She is. Fabulously fuckable, too.”

I can tell Sir has had a few glasses of wine and is getting aroused now – he rarely curses, unless he is very excited or a little bit tipsy, or both.

“Pet, take off your sweater.”

I do.

Sir reaches out and pulls the straps off my shoulders, pulling the dress down to my waist. Now I know why he requested this bra: it opens at the front. Just as I have this thought, I feel his fingers at the clasp between my breasts, opening the bra and pushing it aside.

“Feel her breasts,” he says.

Alan does, and my body jolts at the sensation of new, strange hands on my body.

I moan in my throat.

“You like that, my little toy?”
“Yes, Sir.”

He leans down to kiss me, as Alan continues to squeeze and fondle my breasts.

He kisses me for what seems ages, then pulls back.

“I want you to get up on your hands and knees now, love.”

I do, immediately, saying ‘Yes, Sir’ even as I’m already moving. It’s slightly disorienting to move around with the blindfold on, but I get into the position he has asked of me.

“Move back, to the edge of the bed please, pet.”

I shuffle backwards till my knees are on the edge of the bed. The dress is hanging loose at my waist, my breasts out, but the bra still on over my back and shoulders. I feel Sir push the skirt up so it rests over my lower back. His hands hook into the sides of the lace panties and pulls them down to my knees.

“Look at my girl’s beautiful pussy,” he says.

I can hear Alan breathing hard now. Would I be able to hear it so well without the blindfold? I don’t know but it’s a fast desperate panting, almost. I’m sure he’s so hard that his pants are pushing out the front.

“Fuck,” he says, breathless.

Sir’s fingers begin playing along my pussy lips, slipping easily between the folds. I’m so wet I can feel a little of it on the inside of my thighs, and just this light touch seems enough to make me cum. I sway a little and moan again. Sir moves his hand to the small of my back.

“Hold still, love. We’re looking at you, and you need to hold still,” he says.

His words make me shudder. Why do I love when he tells me what to do? How to lay? How to move? Why does his control over me make me so aroused? There’s no answer, other than to know that it does – and I enjoy it.

I hold still, and after a moment Sir’s finger returns to my pussy, then both of his hands as he puts one on either side and pulls me open a little bit.

“Look how wet she is for us,” he says. “Would you like to fuck her?”

Alan breathes out hard.

“Can I? Just… like that? Just… fuck her?”

“Pet, do I or do I not have your permission to share you as I see fit?”

“You do Sir, yes. Yes sir,” I say, panting. I want someone to fuck me before I explode of anticipation.

“Well, there you go,” says Sir.

I can’t see him but I can imagine him looking at Alan and motioning towards my bared pussy.

I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper – and think in my head to remember later to thank Sir for obviously having organized that in advance – and simultaneously feel the weight of another body on the bed.

“Are you going to make us both cum, pet?” Sir says as he moves up on the bed alongside me.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he says, and I can feel him moving around in front of me. It sounds as though he is opening his belt, unzipping his pants. Behind me, the sounds of Alan putting on the condom and then the feel of his hands caressing my pussy.

“Pet, look up at me,” says Sir.

I do, though I can’t see anything with the blindfold on. 

Sir knows I love being told what will happen, how I will be fucked or played with, what he’s going to do, and at times, he intentionally won’t tell me, so that the not-knowing heightens my senses. But today, trying something new, he knows I need to hear what is going on before he even speaks, so I already know that he is going to tell me what is about to happen.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth while our friend fucks your pussy. Once we start, we won’t stop until you’ve made us both cum,” he says. “I’d like you to ask us both to do so now. Look at each of us as you do.”

I turn my head back over my shoulder, blind behind the silk tie, and look in the general direction of Alan, whose fingers are still caressing my wet pussy lips.

“Please Sir, would you fuck my pussy now?”

I hear a slight grunt from his direction, and imagine he is so aroused by the tableau – me, bared to him, the scene in general, the idea of being given permission to use me this way – that he is beyond words now.

His hands move to my hips and a second later I feel his cock at my pussy, nudging between my lips.

“Oh god,” I gasp. “Oh god.”

“Pet,” says Sir.

I turn back to face him, looking up at him, wishing now I could see his face instead of the darkness of the blindfold. As though he can hear my thoughts, I feel his hand at the back of my head tugging on the blindfold and he pulls it off. His hard cock is inches from my face, his pants open, and he’s looking down at me with dark, intense eyes.

“Please Sir,” I say, gasping as Alan’s cock begins to enter me slowly. “Please fuck my mouth. Please. Please.”

Sir takes my chin in his hand, and says, “Open your mouth, love.” I do, and immediately he slides his cock over my wet lips, over my tongue, pushing in as far as he can.

Our eyes stay locked as he begins to thrust in and out, his speed matching Alan’s as he slow fucks me from behind.

“My beautiful girl,” Sir whispers, his hands on my head now, matching the hands gripping my hips.

Between them, I’m pinned, held still on either end as they pick up the pace of thrusting. I am groaning now, moaning deep in my throat, needing to cum, overwhelmed by the feeling of both of them having me at once.

“Who do you belong to?” asks Sir.

I can’t answer with my mouth full, but I look at him, desperate. He knows the answer. I belong to Sir.

“Who owns you?”

With my eyes, I answer again: You do, Sir.

“What can I do to you?”

A silent answer that he already knows well: Anything, Sir.

“My girl. My pet. My little slut.”

I can tell he’s getting close to cumming now, and I try to run my tongue in a swirl on the underside of his cock as he continues to fuck my mouth.

Behind me, the thrusting is getting harder, and harder, and I can hear Alan grunting through his exertion. His hands are gripping hard on my hips, hard enough I’ll be red there after, and his hard cock is filling me completely. I’m wet and messy down my thighs, and I want to cum.

My moaning is becoming frantic, and I know I look desperate now as I look up at Sir.

“Baby girl, cum… cum now. Cum for me,” says Sir.

At his words, I feel my whole body tighten, and an orgasm begins to run through me. My eyes roll back and I can feel my body going limp.

“Hold still, toy, we are not done with you yet,” says Sir.

I arch my back, and Sir reaches under me with one hand, squeezing my breast while he continues thrusting into my mouth. The harder he squeezes, the closer he is to cumming I know.

“Now,” he says, under his breath, and I feel him cum hard at the back of my throat just as Alan pounds home a final time, deep as he can get, cumming himself.

They stay where they are, panting, cocks pulsing, keeping me filled, for what seems like several long minutes.

I wonder, through the vague fog of my orgasm, if they’re done for the evening. I hope not… I’d like to do this a few more times yet.

I see Sir looking at me as he pulls out, and he winks. He already knows what I’m thinking.

“Wine, my pet?” he asks.

“Yes, please, Sir.”

 More by Carson March:

After the Party
The Business Meeting
The First Meeting

Holiday Romp
Meeting Annie
The Not-So-Stranger
Poker Night
Secret in the Woods