Red Hair in a Twist

Big Balls

We caught a taxi from Sydney airport. The driver loaded our luggage in the back and headed towards our hotel.

I sat in the back seat with my fiancée, Justine, as the dry sights of Sydney sped past our windows. I put my hand on her knee. She smiled at me. We were on a well deserved vacation to visit Justine’s relatives in spectacular Sydney.

She turned her head out to face the window, her hand supporting her face on the window frame. Justine was beautiful. Her long blonde hair flowed down the sides of her elegant face. Her blue eyes were very focused on the sights out of her window — Justine was so gorgeous when she concentrated. In her breezy, floral dress she looked quite the picture, better than anything out of the taxi window.

I turned back to the window. The taxi driver started up some small talk and I did my best to keep up.

After unloading our baggage at the hotel we slowly made our way to the concierge desk pushing our baggage with us. The foyer was bustling but not especially busy. The staff did their best efforts to move everyone along and get them processed as soon as possible.

We stood our luggage up and I stretched my arms. Justine made her way to the bathroom while I waited in line to be served.

In front of us was a young couple. I watched them. There wasn’t much else to do, plus the girl was quite pretty.

I watched as the man started getting impatient, getting hot under his expensive polo-ed collar, as the time passed that they weren’t in their rooms. The girl beside him seemed not to mind but stood their patiently and quietly tolerating her boyfriend’s behaviour.

He started to get louder.

“The service around here is ridiculous!” he snapped, his arms flailing beside him.

“George, it’s ok..” the red-haired girl said. Her voice was soft and waif-like. Her skin was pale, quite in contrast to her flaming rich hair.

“No, babe, it’s not ok! They’re incompetent” George returned.

I watched amused from behind the couple. The staff were professionals and were to rising to the ire of this irate customer, processing as normal instead.

Finally the couple made it to the desk.

“Do you know how long we were waiting to be served?” George barked.

“Yes sir, and we apologise, however we have been moving as fast as we can. Now how can I help you?” the nonchalant girl in the suit said.

“Maybe you don’t understand, we’ve just gotten off a four hour long plane trip, had the taxi driver from hell, and now we’re here waiting for god knows how long to be served!”

“I do understand sir, now how can I help you?”

As George bickered with the girl behind the counter I admired his girlfriend from behind. She was quite a tall girl, thin but with the curves that a man likes to see in a girl. Her hips and ass had the perfect kind of swell that made a man salivate, and it was quite apparent in this dear girl as she was wearing a pair of black leggings that was so fashionable these days. The outline of her firm bottom was so clear that I was able to imagine it in its naked glory with no trouble at all, and that’s exactly what I was doing. Draped over her immaculate frame was a soft silk purple blouse that was tied around her waist.

Goodness, if I wasn’t engaged.

“Forget it, I’m sure getting the concierge involved will just slow this process down further! Just check us in.”

“Very well, what were your names?” the suited girl asked.

“George Harris and Amy Correll”

Justine got back from the bathroom just as the couple was being ushered on.

“Perfect timing, honey” I said as I took my eyes off Amy’s body.

“Sorry about the wait.

How may I help you?” the girl behind the counter asked us.

“Not at all. Justine and Chris Timms checking in.”

To me, Sydney wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sure it kept me a little busy, but it was far more exciting for Justine who, with her friends, whizzed around town finding fashion districts and discovering more and more colourful bags to have me carry for her.

We had a quiet first day, getting to sleep early thanks to the plane ride, but on the second day Justine was hitting the town hard. I was quite clearly the fifth wheel as my dear fiancée and her friends rode waves of energy like speed freaks as they entered shop after shop.

Soon the night was coming and the shadows were getting longer. Justine’s friends had suggested that they go out to some clubs tonight.

“Ooh what a great idea, do you want to come too Chris?” she asked.

All the bags in my hands had weighed me down and all I wanted was to put my feet up.

“No thanks honey. I might just go home.”

“Suit yourself, old man,” she teased. Justine kissed me and sashayed off with her girlfriends. I watched her walk away with her friends. As she swished her hips I had the selfish thought that I was glad that I’d gotten the most beautiful of the group for myself.

The elevator doors opened at the 15th floor. I walked towards room 47, our room. I couldn’t Betturkey wait to drop these bags off, hit the toilet, kick my shoes off, and find a comfortable seat. My feet were killing me as I trudged to the door.

Suddenly my blood ran cold. I stopped in my tracks.

Justine had the key card in her purse! I had no way of getting into the room.

The bags were cutting into my fingers and, damn, I needed to go to the bathroom as soon as possible.

I put the bags by the door and stretched my fingers, watching the blood return slowly, and my skin turning from white to purple to red. I paced outside my door trying to decide what to do next.

I could call Justine? No that would put a dampener on her night out and I would never hear the end of it. I could go downstairs and hopefully the night clerk would understand and find a way to let me in? Surely that was a possibility.

As I paced I noticed that the door to room 48, next door, was ajar. I looked and contemplated but decided against going in. No, I didn’t need the toilet that badly.

I walked back to the elevator, gathering the infernal bags again with me rather than leaving them in the hallway. Pushing the down button, I waited. And waited.

It was a split second decision. An ill-advised split second decision. I bolted back to room 48 with the bags flailing behind me. It would be ok, I would just go in, use the bathroom, and then go downstairs and sort things out with the clerk. It would be fine.

I reached the door and quickly gave it a push. It opened and I stepped inside just as in the distance the elevator bell dinged.

It was dark inside the room. I placed the bags in the corner and tried to find the handle to the bathroom. It almost always was very close to the entry.

The room curved after the closet and I noticed that the bedside light was on, illuminating the room. I heard the faint sound of breathing and my heart froze. My feet dug into the carpet and my hands instinctively clasped into balls. In the darkness my eyes widened. Was there somebody asleep in this room?

I slowly peered around the corner. My mind was not ready for the sight that I would witness.

In the corner, up by the pillows, was the silhouette of a female figure bent over the bed at the hips. Her legs were perfectly straight up from the floor, her waist was bent at a ninety degree angle and her upper body was splayed across the crisp white linen sheets. Her wrists were cuffed together tightly behind her back, her hands resting twisted above the small of her back. As I approached closer I could see that she had a blindfold over her eyes tied tightly at the back of her head, her hair fanning out across the bed – her red hair.

Could it be..?

Fascinated by the incredibly erotic sight before me, I accidentally tripped over a rug corner. I gritted my teeth. Shit.

“George? Is that you?” the naked, bound girl asked innocently. “I didn’t hear you come back in.”

George? Did that mean this angel was Amy? The gorgeous Amy from the front desk earlier today?

I held my breath and contemplated leaving. She didn’t know who I was, I could just as easily leave and she would be none the wiser. Yet the way the shadows played off the curves of her body held me in her pull. Her shoulder blades cast shadows across her back and her round ass was a portrait of flesh and darkness. I could even see her breasts crushed beneath her upper body as she tried to twist her body to half-face the sound she heard in the entrance, and they looked amazing. Her pale skin sparkled in the lamp light.

“I’m so glad you came back George. I’m sorry that this upset you so much,” Amy’s body squirmed under the restraints. I watched her leg muscles move as she repositioned. If I moved over to the bed corner I’d be able to see better, I thought to myself. “I waited for you like I said I would, like a good little girl.”

This was starting to turn me on. My penis began stirring in my pants and all feelings of pain in my feet and pressure in my belly were forgotten. My heart began beating and blood rushed to my head. I stayed silent.

“George? Please say something George.”

I thought about where George could have been. Where would a man go with a beauty like this tied, helpless on his bed?

“Please. I’m sorry I sprung this on you like this. I know some people aren’t into this but I am, George, and I had to say something.” Amy twisted her slender body. Her long legs sliding further and further apart.

The view got even better when I stood behind her. I began to rub the bulge in my pants, no longer trying to stay quiet. If she thought I was George, that’s fine, I can be George. That arrogant asshole.

“I hope you’ve decided that you want this too?” I waited, admiring her magnificent body. “I hope you’re ok with being my sex master?”

My cock stood on end, pushing its head against the fly. Amy was a submissive.

I had been trying for years to bring a rougher edge to Justine and my sex life. I would try subtly, Betturkey Giriş holding her hands as I thrust into her, before pulling them above her head and attempting to pin her wrists together. She would find a way to slide them back and move them about — the freedom would irritate me afterwards. I tried not-so-subtly, pulling her hair and pushing her up against the fridge, pushing my cock against her upturned ass through her skirt and panties. Justine would wiggle her ass and tease me before twisting out of my grasp and kissing me adorably on my nose.

“Let me get comfortable and then you can fuck me, big boy.”

Even the way she would say “fuck” was like she was reading it out of a dictionary.

Which was why seeing Amy displayed for me like this was like a gift. I looked at her body in the light from behind. She could hear me back there and straightened her legs to assume the position. I could even see the colour change from pale to tan between her cheeks where her darling asshole sat puckered and prime.

“I want to please you George. I want you to use me. I want to be your filthy sex doll.”

I could believe the words coming from this red haired angel. Even her timid voice made the act all the kinkier. I unzipped my fly. Amy obviously heard it and spread her long white legs expecting to get a fucking already.

“Oh god, please George. Fuck your slave girl,” Amy begged with desperation of a girl who had been anticipating cock since whenever she had first bound herself on the bed for her boyfriend.

My cock sprung from its cage. It was raging with a hardness that I hadn’t felt in months.

In the back of my mind of course I thought of George — I had enough to piece the situation together now. Amy was a submissive at heart and had been dating George for what I guessed was a short while. She had decided that a vacation away and the privacy of a hotel room was the best time to reveal to her “love” the style of rough sex that she craved. Who knows how base her desires reached, all that I could tell was that it was too extreme for a soft-cock like George and he had felt the need to leave and decide what to do while his potential slave waited for him.

Lucky bastard, he had no idea how many men would kill for a girl as beautiful and as warped as Amy.

I strode over to the other side of the bed, my rigid cock bouncing with my steps. Amy struggled against her self-imposed bindings. I continued looking at her, how her hair was messed up in just the right way that it made this angel appear a little naughty.

I approached her from the top of her body.

“George?” Amy said, wondering why I was at the wrong end. She raised her head up as if she could see through her blindfold, wondering what would happen next. “George?”

In one swift motion I slapped her angelic face with my outstretched hand. Not the kind of slap that men gave to women who misbehaved in the 40’s, the kind of slap that an anonymous, horny man gives to a tied-up, submissive, wanting whore. The noise echoed through the room. Amy’s face was twisted to the left and a red spot was beginning to glow on her cheek. The silence that followed was almost louder than the smack of her flesh.

I held my breath as I waited to see how Amy would reply. Her breathing deepened. Then, softly, “Thank you master.”

My cock was at bursting point. I slapped her again, even harder with a strength I didn’t knew I could inflict against a girl. The whack was followed by a sexy little whimper and then again, “Thank you master.”

Amy was stunning. She was clearly into this kind of abuse; I wanted to see what other kind of abuse she was into. Her hair was a pretty red mess and her body was heaving as she breathed.

“Thank you George,” she whispered, thinking her boyfriend had given in to her desires.

I wondered where her boyfriend was. Never mind, I decided.

I rubbed my cock in my fist as I thought what else Amy’s delicate body would take. I moved behind her and viciously slapped her perfect ass cheeks a few times, enjoying the squirming that Amy’s body did to react to the pain. She made a small sobbing sound.

There must be something in the bathroom I could use on her. I sharply moved from behind her to the side door, switching the light on. The immaculate white tiles were hard on my eyes initially as I adjusted. There was a little shower in the corner with glass walls and a large mirror on the opposite wall above a small, functional sink. A toilet sat squarely between on the side. I searched for something sexy to use on the willing Amy, something that would test her submissive nature. Then I spied a bottle.

I walked out to the bed with my cock pumping in my hand again, in my other hand I held a bottle of hotel branded shampoo. Approaching Amy’s face I stroked her cheek and felt her relax in my grasp. I stroked a little longer seeing the red imprint of my hand from earlier. Using my fingers I tugged down her jaw and pulled her tongue out. She made a tiny “uhhh” noise as I opened her mouth. I wondered if she could taste my precum on my fingers.

Pulling the lid off the shampoo bottle I held it out to her ruby lips and poured into her open mouth. Lashes of light-blue coloured goo dripped onto her tongue. Amy began to make a strange noise as I held her mouth open with my other hand. She struggled with her hands behind her back until her instinct fell by the wayside and her slutty persona was revived. The sounds coming from her changed to moans as she relaxed to the will of her master and began swallowing the cleaning fluid.

My cock was so hard, I wanted to jam it into her mouth and fuck her head until I came, but I restrained myself. I continued to pour the liquid from the shampoo bottle into her mouth and watched her throat muscles swallowing. She was a good little slave, I’d give her that.

Soon the bottle came to finish. I dropped the empty plastic to the floor. Amy swallowed the remainder of the gooey shampoo down her throat.

“Thank you for the delicious meal master,” Amy croaked out of her sticky throat.

I see-sawed my cock between the firm globes of her ass cheeks and slapped her sopping wet pussy with my hand as Amy moaned like a bitch in heat. It was a low guttural moan that I’ve only ever heard in the context of depraved sex.

I looked around the room for ideas of what to do next. There were unlit candles clustered together in the corner on the desk. They didn’t look like they’d been supplied with the room so I assumed that these were from George for his idea of a romantic evening.

Slapping Amy’s backside, I removed my cock from her cheeks and grabbed a candle and the box of matches in the dish beside the TV. The candle was white and ribbed — in a different scenario I would have used this to fuck her, I thought. I could always use one of the others for that.

Holding the candle by the tip, I extended my hand until the base of the white, waxy candle was on Amy’s tongue. She knew what I wanted her to do. She wrapped her lips around the candle base and sucked it into her mouth as if it were a wax cock. Amy moaned as if it were my cock — in her head, of course, George’s — and sucked the foul tasting phallus.

I pulled the candle out and lit a match; the flame illuminated the room a bit fuller and much more warmly. I watched the candle flame flicker as Amy struggled against her cuffs.

“Please master…” she started to say before cutting herself off.

I tipped the candle to her back. A trickle of melted wax fell between her shoulder blades and Amy screamed in pain. The scream lasted a split second before she closed her mouth, aware of the public nature of the room, but the pain was clearly something she hadn’t expected.

I used the candle flame to find her clothes piled neatly in the corner under the window. Her blouse, her bra, her leggings and her panties, all in a tidy pile. I pulled out her used panties. They were a pair of black v-strings; no wonder I couldn’t see a panty line before. They wouldn’t be any good as a gag. I grabbed her black leggings and balled them up — they were so thin, hard to believe this and the tiny whorish v-string was all that separated her ass and pussy from me earlier. Then, pulling on Amy’s fire-red hair I pulled her mouth open and pushed the stockings inside, not caring if I was choking her.

I returned to the candle wax.

I lay on the bed beside Amy, my cock hard, tracing her curves with the tip of my cock. I had taken my shirt and pants off and was determined to fuck this darling, wanton whore. George, be damned.

However the pressure in my stomach had built up again and I need to use the toilet first.

I pulled the gag out of Amy’s lips and wiped it onto her face. I slapped her once again for good measure.

“I deserved the pain you gave me master. I hope I have pleased you?” she asked.

I pushed her face into the mattress, hopefully indicating that she should stay there without saying anything, and made my way to the bathroom.

Without any pants on I sat down immediately and began to relieve myself. I could hear shuffling on the bed and I hoped that Amy wasn’t undoing her blindfold or anything. Finishing up I balled up a hunk of toilet paper and began to wipe. I wasn’t quite done when I heard a voice at the door.

“May I help you with that master?”

Amy had made her way from the bed to the door of the bathroom. I hoped she hadn’t taken her blindfold off. Wait, what did she want to do?

I opened the door.

She was crouched on her knees before me, her arms pinned behind her back still, her blindfold in place. From the front I could see her breasts. They were exquisite. Full bulbs of flesh with a little strawberry nipple on the front. There was no sag or lilt, they hung exactly as perfectly as a girl her age would expect to.

I was sitting on the porcelain seat still, yet beyond her blindfold she had no idea I was in such an unsexy position.

“May I.. May I clean you master?” Amy asked in her gentle voice before opening her lips and extending her wet tongue.

Did she mean what I thought she meant? Did it matter? This whore had been obeying me all evening; I wanted to see how disgusting she would be.

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