Masters of the Hotel Bentmoore: Chapter 2

Khloe was a born and raised small town Nevada girl. At twenty-three, she had set out on her own and moved to Las Vegas for some adventure. Now twenty-five, she held a prestigious job at an upscale world renown casino, watching as fortunes were made, and lost, overnight.

She was generally happy with her life. She had a wide circle of friends, a great apartment, looks most women her age would kill for, and a fantastic career. She even had a boyfriend, one that made all her friends drool with longing and mad with jealously…or had, until last week.

The breakup had not been that much of a surprise. Tom and Khloe had been having problems for a while, at least in Khloe’s mind. The surprise had been the method of the breakup.

Khloe had discovered Tom having an affair with her best friend. She had found this out in the worst possible way, too: by walking in on the two of them fucking…in Khloe’s apartment. On Khloe’s bed.

The shock had sent her zooming down into a deep depression, the likes of which she had not felt in years. She was frozen, stuck in that moment, the instant she had walked into her bedroom and found her boyfriend happily rutting her so-called best friend. The deep betrayal had cut her to the quick. Khloe’s mind had pulled back and shut down from everything going on around her.

For Khloe, this reaction was all too typical. When confronted by something she couldn’t handle, Khloe would often lock herself somewhere deep inside her own mind, somewhere cold and dark. It was like she became a puppet of herself: she would go through the motions, seem to be living life, and look fine from the outside…but inside, she would be completely numb. She wouldn’t let herself feel anything at all.

A therapist had once told her this type of reaction was a coping mechanism, a way to protect herself from emotions too powerful for her to work through.

Khloe was also a cutter.

She cut throughout high school. She would escape into the girls’ bathroom, lock the stall closed, pull the razor from her pocket, and sigh in pleasure as she felt the sharp glide of the blade slicing across her own skin. She would watch in fascination as the blood dripped into the toilet, swirling and floating down into the water. But she was always careful to cut far from exposed places, like arms or ankles. Her favorite places were under her breasts and along her inner thighs.

Then, the summer of her junior year, she’d begun to get more daring: she started cutting her stomach, hips, and along her upper arms.

At first, her parents had thought nothing of her reclusive behavior. They thought she was just acting like a normal, moody teenager. And if she didn’t want to put on a bathing suit or wear the short shorts all the other girls were wearing, well, it was because she was becoming self-conscious about her looks, just like all women grew to be sooner or later.

It wasn’t Khloe’s mother who discovered her daughter’s secret, but a cousin visiting from out of town, who had walked in on Khloe dressing one day, saw the nasty-looking scabs and bloody lines all over her body, and told Khloe’s parents immediately.

Khloe found herself in therapy the next day.

Her parents had tried to support her. But they could never understand why she did it, and Khloe didn’t know how to explain it to them: Sometimes, it was the only way for her to crack open the frozen shell she would build around her soul and feel again. The therapy had helped, it had kept her alive…but she still continued to cut.

Then, in college, Khloe was passed up for an internship she had desperately wanted. The disappointment had sent her running to the bathroom, blade in hand. A fellow student had walked in on her by the sink, knife at the ready, poised to cut open an artery.

The student did not called Khloe’s parents. He did not tell the school. He drove Khloe to the Hotel Bentmoore, and personally delivered her into the safe hands of Mr. Shern, a host and Master of the hotel.

Khloe had not cut herself since.

She never saw that student again. The only thing she knew of him was his first name: Adam. She never got the chance to thank him for saving her life.

Khloe had remained at the hotel for a good long while. Then she went back to school, but continued to see Mr. Shern regularly. Then her visits grew shorter and farther between, until it was months before she realized how long it had been since she had seen Mr. Shern.

She had not gone back to the hotel at all since meeting Tom. She’d only spoken to Mr. Shern by phone, giving him an update on her life and letting him know she was okay.

But now she needed him more than ever.

The drive to the hotel seemed to take an eternity. When she finally saw the grand building of the Hotel Bentmoore come into view, she wanted to weep in relief.

Khloe pulled into the circular entrance, threw her keys to the valet, and ran inside. The guests in the lobby watched in curiosity as she ran to the front desk, sharing hushed words with the desk clerk.

Khloe didn’t care what the other guests were thinking. All she wanted to know was how long she would have to wait to see Mr. Shern. To her relief, she learned she wouldn’t have to wait long at all.

“Your host left strict instructions: once you arrive, you are not to be left alone, not even for a moment,” the receptionist said gravely. “If you need to go up to your room to prepare for your visit with him, I will have to send someone up with you. But, if you prefer, I can have the bellhop take your suitcase up to your room, and have your liaison take you down to the activity room to see your host right now.”

“I would like the liaison to take me down now,” Khloe said quietly.

“Very good.” The receptionist picked up the phone, pressed some buttons, and started muttering quietly into the receiver. Meanwhile, she pointed to a chair in the lobby right across from the desk, motioning for Khloe to have a seat. Khloe watched as the bellhop disappeared into the elevator with her suitcase.

A few minutes later Mr. Phillips, her liaison, arrived. “Please follow me, miss,” he said softly, motioning Khloe towards the elevator. “Your host is expecting you.”

Khloe almost smiled in relief—almost. She knew she was in for a hard time. Mr. Shern would not go easy on her, not after he saw….

She followed Mr. Phillips quietly, feeling her heartbeat speed up as she walked. But finally, she broke into a smile: she was feeling nervous, she realized. It was the first time in days she had felt anything at all except icy desperation.

Inside the activity room, Khloe closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling some of the numbness that had been enveloping her begin to melt away. The next hour or two would not be pleasant, but just feeling anything again, excitement, fear, trepidation, anything, was a welcome change from feeling nothing.

“Khloe,” Mr. Shern greeted her from the center of the room. “What’s happened?”

“Tom broke up with me.” Her voice was flat. Indifferent. Like she didn’t even care, even though her very soul was shattering into pieces.

“I’m sorry, Khloe. But you mentioned to me on the phone last time we talked, you thought things with Tom might not last. What happened?”

“He cheated on me with my best friend. I found them together, fucking on my bed. On my bed.” Her voice cracked. “They’ve already moved in together, into her place. I’m not talking to either one of them. I wish they were dead. I wish…I wish I were dead.” The admission seemed to surprise even her, and she looked down in shame.

“Khloe, what have you done?”

“I…I….” She couldn’t finish. Mr. Shern studied her with furrowed brows.

“Get undressed,” he ordered.

“Sir, I—”

“Undressed, now, all the way,” he repeated. “I will see the damage for myself.”

Khloe began to peel off her clothes, lifting away her shirt and bra before moving down to her shoes and socks. She did her pants and underwear last, stripping them off her legs and stepping away from them slowly. As she did, she could hear Mr. Shern’s sharp intake of breath.

“Under the light,” he said. Khloe moved to stand under the ceiling light, her head bowed. “Spread your legs.”

Khloe spread her legs until they were about shoulder length apart. She kept her eyes closed; she did not see Mr. Shern’s expression of deep concern. He knelt down and traced the fresh lines of cuts along her inner thighs, grazing them lightly with his finger.

He got up and circled her slowly, checking every inch of her skin for new cuts. When he was sure he had found them all, he stopped and faced her.

“Look at me, Khloe,” he said. When she didn’t obey immediately, he picked up her chin. Khloe opened her eyes. Her host was standing mere inches away from her face. “How old are these? How recently did you cut yourself?”

“On the way over to the hotel, in the car,” she whispered. “I thought I could wait until I got here, but I just couldn’t, so I pulled over….”

“The razor you used. You brought it with you? Or did you dispose of it before you got to the hotel?”

“I brought it with me, Sir.”

“It’s in with your luggage?”

“No, Sir. I left it in my car.”

“When you leave this room, I will have someone take your car keys from you, and they will search your car for the razor, and dispose of it. You will not be touching it again.”

“Yes, Sir.” They both knew how significant it was, keeping the razor she used to cut herself. Once Khloe designated a certain razor as her “cutting razor,” it was as if the blade would take on a life of its own. It would call to her, begging her to use it again, to let it slice into her soft flesh and make her bleed.

“You will have to be punished for this, Khloe.”

“Yes.”

“But not tonight. Tonight, you need help.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her words were choked off as something in her chest suddenly squeezed and released. A cry? A sob? Was some emotion finally injecting itself into her shell of a body?

Mr. Shern walked over to the wide wardrobe and returned holding two leather suspension cuffs.

“Hands.”

Khloe dutifully presented her hands, and Mr. Shern attached the cuffs. They were made of thick leather, wide and strong, and each had two buckles: one to go around the wrist, and one to go around the palm. Snap-hooks were already attached to the D-rings on the outside of each cuff.

Once the cuffs were on, Mr. Shern took her by the arm and brought her beneath the suspension bar. It was long, made of iron, and had rings on each end for the snap-hooks. A length of chain ran from end to end, and welded to the center was an O-ring. Another piece of chain looped through the O-ring and went straight up to the ceiling, disappearing through a tight hole.

Working silently, Mr. Shern lifted Khloe’s hands and, one at a time, snapped the hooks of her cuffs into the rings of the suspension bar. Then, he walked to a switch on the far wall, and turned on the mechanism to lift Khloe into the air. Khloe went up, and up, until her body was stretched taut and her toes were a good two feet off the ground.

Satisfied, Mr. Shern turned off the switch and went back to the wardrobe to retrieve the tool he would be using on Khloe’s pale and vulnerable body.

“I’m not going to start slow, Khloe,” he said. “I don’t think there would be any point. You need the pain. Now let’s get this good and done.”

Khloe looked down. Mr. Shern was holding a long, thick, coiled whip. Khloe knew that whip well. She had hoped never to see it again.

No, please, don’t. She could hear the words in her head, but they were an echo, like hallow sounds coming from down a dark tunnel. They were soft and weak. They would not rise up.

Mr. Shern took his place behind her. “You know what has to happen for you to make this stop,” he said. “How long it takes is completely up to you.”

With that, he let the whip fly. A hiss crackled through the air, and then a snap. The end of the whip bit into Khloe’s trim and smooth rump.

The first impact hit her right across her buttocks, snapping into her soft flesh with a resounding crack. Khloe flinched, but said nothing. She barely felt it: it was like nothing more than a gentle graze.

Hiss SNAP

The second crack of the whip hurt a bit more, but nothing too bad; more like the shocking stab of a quick needle, barely felt, and only after it had left the skin. Khloe closed her eyes and held her breath.

Hiss SNAP

The pain was worse this time, but Khloe only felt it in slow degrees.

Hiss SNAP

The tail of the whip came down again, and again, and again, welting lines into her thighs, hips, and buttocks. Each one felt a little worse.

The whip was chipping pieces off her icy shell, but slowly. Too slowly.

Finally, Khloe could feel the pain through the safe buffer of her numbing cocoon, and she began to gasp with each one.

The whip was starting to feel ugly now: Khloe was squeezing her eyes shut and whimpering with each hiss of the whip. But still, she said nothing. She was not completely free of her cold inner prison just yet.

The next flick was particularly vicious, cutting across two previous lines of welts, and Khloe finally cried out.

“Oh, that hurt—”

Mr. Shern let fly another one, cutting into the deep muscles of her thighs.

“Oh God, it hurts, stop—”

He circled around to her other side, hitting her from a different angle, working methodically down her body.

“Oh Jesus, please, stop, it hurts, it hurts—”

Mr. Shern kept his aim lower now, working her upper legs. Khloe began to bellow with each slice of the whip, struggling against her bonds.

“Please, please, PLEASE!”

Mr. Shern didn’t let up. In fact, his blows became more brutal, hitting her harder and faster. Khloe began to scream, her voice rising to a shrieking trill every time she heard the hiss of the whip.

“Please, please!” her voice broke down into a bray of sobs. But it still wasn’t enough. Mr. Shern knew it, and Khloe knew it, too. She had not been broken yet, not completely.

Only when the tail of the whip came down in a perfect line right beneath her ass-cheeks for a third time, making her feel like her body was being severed in two, did Khloe finally break. She screamed loud and long, breaking through her protective numbing field.

“BALLOONS, BALLOONS,” she cried, her voice hysterical. It was her safeword, the word Mr. Shern needed to hear to know Khloe was broken, shattered, her frozen shell dissolved. From the beginning of Khloe’s ordeal, they had both known he would not stop until Khloe could bring herself to scream out her safeword.

Mr. Shern dropped the whip and ran over to the wall to flip the switch that would lower Khloe to the floor.

Khloe came down to the ground, but her feet could not support her. She crumpled. Mr. Shern kept lowering the bar until Khloe had sunk into a heap on the floor, her cheek resting on cold stone. Her arms remained high, locked in the restraints.

Working quickly, Mr. Shern unbuckled her cuffs, lowered her arms gently to her sides, and took her in his arms. Khloe was sobbing, and swaying a bit from the force of her wails.

Her ass hurt, her back hurt, her legs hurt, but most of all, her heart hurt.

“It’s okay now, Khloe, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Mr. Shern wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Khloe clung to him, crying into his chest.

“It hurts. It hurts so bad. It hurts so bad,” she said over and over. She didn’t mean the welts from the whip.

“I know. I know.” Mr. Shern’s voice was soft and soothing. He smoothed her hair away from her face as he rocked her and held her tight, right there on the activity room floor, comforting her as best he could.

This was Khloe’s aftercare, and it was just as important as the breaking. Mr. Shern would hold her as she cried out her heartache and misery; he would keep her safe as she took these first crucial steps to putting herself back together, and he would not let her go until he knew she was safe to be on her own again.

As Khloe’s sobs died down, her body racked now and then by a reflexive heave of her breath, Mr. Shern continued to hold her close, rubbing her back and arms with gentle hands. Finally, Khloe calmed down, and lifted her head away to look at him.

“I’m feeling better now,” she said, her voice high like a child’s.

“Good. I’m glad. It took quite a bit—your ass and thighs will be covered in welts for a while. But at least they will heal.”

“Yes, Sir,” she sighed with a small catch in her voice. She understood the underlying message: the welts would hurt like hell, but eventually, they would fade. The cuts she had given herself, on the other hand…those cuts might end up giving her scars she would have for the rest of her life. She hoped not. She had enough scars.

“I think you can get dressed now,” he said, helping her up. He found her clothes and handed them to her one piece at a time as Khloe dressed herself. They both said nothing.

Khloe moved slowly, feeling the fabric rubbing against her skin as she donned them, marveling at how scratchy and encompassing they felt. She breathed in the room air, and felt slightly sickened by the smell of her own sweat.

It was always like this after Mr. Shern broke her: her senses would go into overdrive, and she would become hyper-aware of every touch, ever sound, every smell. It was as if her numbness had been a scab encasing her whole body, mind and soul, and now that Mr. Shern had ripped it off, her senses could work again.

“There’s one more thing, Khloe,” Mr. Shern said. “Your punishment.”

He walked over to the wardrobe, and when he came back, he was holding thick pieces of pliant leather that hung down from his hand. Khloe recognized them very well. She began to cry.

“No,” she said. “Please, Sir, no.”

“You broke the trust. You lost control. I now assume it. You will wear these until I can trust you again. Hands,” he repeated.

Weeping quietly, Khloe held out her hands, and felt Mr. Shern encircle her wrists with the wide leather bands that looked almost like bracelets—almost. They were soft and pliable, and could have passed for kinky jewelry, but Khloe new better.

Each band had a small buckle, fitted with a tiny miniature padlock.

They symbolized the fact that her body was no longer her own: it now belonged to her host, Mr. Shern, until he decided he could trust her again. They were a sign of ownership.

Mr. Shern locked the padlocks now, listening for the click, ensuring that Khloe would not be able to take the bands off until he released her at his own discretion.

The cuffs could be hidden under long sleeves, if she chose to hide them. Not that anyone at the Hotel Bentmoore would look at them twice—marks and symbols of possession could be found everywhere at the Hotel Bentmoore. Guests, especially those who lived the lifestyle, grew accustomed to them quickly. Slave collars, chastity belts, henna marks, tattoos…they were all par for the course.

But Khloe hated what they represented. She was a woman with an independent nature, always had been. She hated the idea of someone else having any kind of control over her.

Her body now belonged to Mr. Shern. The bands would be a constant reminder of his control. He would always be watching, always checking to make sure she wasn’t abusing his property. The point was simple: make Khloe understand her body was no longer hers to cut. She knew their purpose, recognized their benefit, but hated them just the same.

This time, she couldn’t refuse. Mr. Shern was right, she had broken the trust, and this was more than just a punishment—it was his way of letting her know she would have to prove herself to him again before he’d be willing to take the bands off.

So she held her hands out, and felt the buckles tighten, and heard the tiny padlocks click, and cried in shame. But some of her tears were of relief, too: relief that someone was watching over her, and making sure she didn’t try to hurt herself again. She didn’t feel safe anywhere else in the world as much as she did at the Hotel Bentmoore.

“I will call the liaison now,” Mr. Shern said, letting her arms drop. Khloe continued to silently cry. “I will not order you to eat dinner. I doubt you could stomach it right now. But I will have you woken early tomorrow, and you will join the other guests in the dining room. You will eat what I have ordered for you, and nothing else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“After breakfast, you will return to your room and have one hour to rest and prepare yourself before your liaison returns you here, to me. When you come to me, you will be dressed in loose clothes, no underwear, and no bra. Is that understood?”

Khloe took a deep breath. She hated being ordered around like this. Hated it, hated it, hated it. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Mr. Shern went to press the button by the door that would summon the liaison. “Rub some of that ointment we keep in the guests’ bathrooms on your welts before you go to sleep.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Don’t forget, Khloe,” he said in a threatening voice. Khloe understood: if she forgot, she’d be getting a punishment far worse than the wristbands.

“No, Sir.”

The liaison arrived and opened the door.

Mr. Shern grabbed Khloe by the arm. Turning her around, he wiped the tears off her cheeks with a gentle thumb. “You’re going to be okay, Khloe,” he said, his voice soft. “I give you my word. I will not let you leave the hotel until I know you’ll be safe on your own. And I keep my promises, don’t I?”

Khloe looked at him with longing, gratitude, and complete submission. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Have a good night’s sleep. We’re going to have a lot of work tomorrow, putting you back together.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Khloe joined her liaison in the hallway, and followed him down to the elevator.

~ * * * ~

The next morning, Khloe awoke to the sound of the phone ringing: the polite wake-up call from the front desk.

It was seven o’clock in the morning, and time for Khloe to get dressed and head to the dining room. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She wanted desperately to go back to sleep, but knew better. They would no doubt call Mr. Shern if she didn’t show up in the dining room soon.

She washed and dressed quickly, putting on a long-sleeved sweater to hide the leather bands around her wrists, and pair of comfortable jeans. She might look a little odd, wearing such a warm top, but Khloe didn’t care. Better to look a little too warm than have people staring at her bands, wondering at her status.

But as she carefully tugged the long sleeves over the bands, Khloe remembered how she’d thrown the heavy sweater into her bag without even thinking about it. Had she known, even then, that her host might make her wear the cuffs again? Is that why she’d packed the sweater in the first place?

Had she been hoping Mr. Shern would make her wear the bands again? Hoping for the forced submission they would grant her?

The dining room, thank goodness, was relatively empty. There was one couple sitting in the far corner, and another sitting at the opposite end, but that was all.

Khloe looked over to the couple closest to her, a man and a woman. A shiny metal slave collar adorned the man’s neck. The woman was feeding him bits of French toast off her plate. Khloe watched in fascination as the man carefully bit the food off her fork with his teeth, staring at her reverently as he chewed. They sat in silence, the man giving his companion his full adoration, the woman only granting him passing glances.

At the opposite corner sat the other couple, two women who looked for all the world like they were just two friends enjoying each other’s company over a tasty meal. But Khloe noticed one of the women sat very strangely, leaning all the way to the side of her seat. Every time the woman shifted her weight, her eyes would grow wide in shock, and her face would contort with pain. The other woman would stop talking for a brief second, grinning wickedly. Then they would both continue with their conversation as if nothing had happened.

Khloe’s server arrived. The first thing he did was ask for her room number. Khloe gave it to him quietly. His eyes filled with secret knowledge, then he turned and glided away. He didn’t even bother to ask if she wanted some coffee.

A few minutes later, her food arrived, and Khloe looked down at her tray in disappointment. They had given her toast, one scrambled egg, a fruit cup, and a glass of cranberry juice. That was it. Before the server walked away, he made sure to take all the condiments and spices off the table. Khloe would not even be allowed to put salt on her egg.

Khloe knew why Mr. Shern had picked these foods: they would feed her and keep her energy up, but not upset her stomach for what was to come. Which told her something was coming, something unpleasant, and Mr. Shern knew whatever it was, it was bad enough to make Khloe feel physically sick from it.

The realization scared her so much, Khloe lost her appetite. But she ate the food anyway, knowing if she didn’t, her host would probably be told about that, too.

She finished quickly, then went back to her room to change and wait to be summoned. The hour went by slowly, and Khloe wondered if this was Mr. Shern’s way of torturing her a little bit, making her wait and wonder what he had in store for her. But the liaison arrived on time, and Khloe followed dutifully.

He brought her back to the same activity room she had been in the night before. It looked basically the same: empty, except for the bed and the large wardrobe. Mr. Shern stood right in front of the door, waiting to greet her as soon as she walked in, and Khloe’s eyes locked onto him as she heard the door close.

“Khloe.” Mr. Shern’s voice was deep and soothing, and immediately set her at ease. Whatever it was he had planned for her, it would be to help her, not hurt her. Well, it would hurt, she could be sure of that…but that wouldn’t be the main objective. The main objective was to see Khloe healthy and safe, and Mr. Shern would do what was needed to see that happen. It was like going to the doctor, Khloe thought: sometimes they had to stick you with needles, but it was only to help you get better.

I hope he’s not going to stick with me needles, she thought, and shuddered. She looked around the room to see what evidence she could find of what lay in store for her.

Only then did she notice the other man in the room. He was facing away from the door, handling something on the bed, working quietly. The man was bent over, but Khloe could guess he would be about average height, maybe even a couple inches shorter than Mr. Shern. He looked exceptionally wide, with a linebacker’s body: muscles bulged from everywhere and stretched across his white linen shirt.

Like all the hosts at the Hotel Bentmoore, he was wearing tailored slacks, pressed and belted, but while Mr. Shern’s were a dark gray, his were a light crème. His hair was a rich, chocolate brown, cut impeccably. Khloe had a sudden deep need for the man to turn around so she could see his face.

“Khloe,” Mr. Shern said, “I’ve asked my associate, Mr. Cox, to join us today. Mr. Cox has certain unique talents, and I thought we might utilize them.” Mr. Shern twisted around to peer at the other man. “Mr. Cox?”

Hearing the prompt, Mr. Cox looked over his shoulder, and Khloe got a view of the side of his face. His eyes, like his hair, were a rich creamy brown, and slanted in the most seductive way. But Mr. Cox had not put down what he was holding in his hands when he had turned, and Khloe got a glimpse of what it was: rope.

Her eyes cut over to the bed, and she saw with a start that it was covered with lengths of rope. The rope seemed to be organized by length and thickness, with the smaller pieces on one side and the longer, thicker pieces on the other. There were other pieces of equipment on the bed, too: hooks, snaps, and rings, all made of heavy metal, all with holes for the rope to snake through. One particularly large and curved hook had a thick ball welded to the end, and Khloe’s eyes widened in fear.

“Khloe, look at me,” Mr. Shern ordered, bringing Khloe’s attention back to him. “Mr. Cox is a Shibari artist. Do you know what Shibari is?”

Khloe shook her head no.

“It is the art of rope bondage,” Mr. Shern explained. “Mr. Cox is going to tie you up. Have you ever seen pictures of someone tied up in rope before?”

This time, Khloe could slowly nod her head yes. She had come across pictures of women tied up in intricate designs and knots before. Khloe had always thought the pictures were beautiful, with the women laced in twining patterns of rope. Sometimes, the women in the pictures were suspended in midair. Was that what they were going to do to her?

“It will take some time for Mr. Cox to get you tied and positioned the way he wants. You will have to pose for him. You will follow his instructions to the letter, and do everything he says. He is your host now, too, and you will show him all the respect and obedience you show me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Khloe cast her eyes down in servitude.

“Good. Now take off your clothes.”

Khloe glanced at Mr. Cox: he had put the rope down, and was looking at her with open curiosity. It was clear he was waiting to see if she would follow orders. Khloe looked down at the floor and took a deep, nervous breath.

“Khloe, get undressed,” Mr. Shern repeated.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied this time. She did not look at either man as she began to strip.

Her dress was long and billowy, and zippered up the back. All Khloe had to do was lower the zipper and let the dress fall. The dress pooled around her feet like feathery gauze, and Khloe pressed her legs together, feeling the room air against her skin. As instructed, she had worn nothing underneath.

Mustering her courage, she stood up straight and tall, resisting the urge to cover herself. It would serve no point. These men would ultimately see every part of her, any they desired, whether she liked it or not. Mr. Shern certainly knew her body inside and out better than she did. Probably better than her doctor did.

Khloe stood as proudly as she could, but kept her eyes downcast, unable to look either man in the eyes.

Mr. Cox began to circle her, studying her shapely, feminine body. Khloe’s nipples puckered, dimpling the flesh of her petite, cupped breasts. Her mouth went dry under his close scrutiny.

“What about the nipples?” Mr. Cox asked. Khloe jumped. Mr. Cox’s voice was deep, and had a slight accent Khloe couldn’t place. But he was not speaking to her, he was speaking to Mr. Shern.

Khloe looked up: Mr. Cox had come to stand right in front of her to watch the way her nipples hardened and distended. A look of in mild interest covered his features. “How sensitive are her nipples?”

“Not overly so,” Mr. Shern replied. “But I’ve never tested their limits before.” Mr. Cox nodded in response. Khloe straightened her back, feeling a bit of irritation. She did not like being spoken about as if she wasn’t in the room, and she certainly didn’t like listening to two men have a conversation about her nipples, even if they were two hosts of the Hotel Bentmoore.

“The thighs will be a problem,” Mr. Cox continued, looking at the scabbed, healing cuts lining Khloe’s legs. “I will have to avoid that area…” Khloe looked down in shame. “But it will be fine,” Mr. Cox said, noticing her reaction. Khloe raised her head: Mr. Cox was giving her a gentle smile. “The ankles will hold, and I can bend the knees….” He continued to circle her. “The hair…I can use the hair….”

“Remember what I said, Cox. It should not hurt beyond a mild ache. The pain is not the point. At least, not that of the ropes.”

“I remember. I assure you, the ropes won’t hurt her. But it’ll help keep her in place—which I think will be necessary.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

Mr. Cox gave her one more cursory glance, then rubbed his hands together, looking eager.

“Let’s get started,” he said. “Khloe, I want you to come over here by the bed. Stand straight, with your hands in front of you.”

Khloe did as told, stepping out of the pool of her dress and walking towards him with silent, careful steps. She put her arms out in front of her, ready for what was to come.

Mr. Cox began to manipulate her stance, turning and twisting her arms and hands. He had her place her palms together, then her forearms together, and raised her arms by the shoulders. Then, he grabbed some rope from the bed, and began to bind Khloe with it.

The rope was only a little coarse, and didn’t itch or chafe her skin too much. It was only when Mr. Cox looped or tightened it that it felt a bit irritating.

Her arms took a long time: Mr. Cox was sheathing them in rope, lining and knitting them together like a pair of sleeves. By the time he was done, Khloe couldn’t pull her arms away from each other even the smallest bit.

But looking down at them, she quickly decided the rope looked beautiful. She felt sensual and erotic, like one of the women she’d seen in the pictures. Her pelvis tightened and her nipples puckered as a jolt of pure arousal shot from her clit all the way up her spine.

“I see you like the way it looks,” Mr. Cox said, giving her a knowing smile. “I hope you like the rest. Now put your feet together, I’m going to do your legs.”

He knotted her ankles and calves the same way he had her arms, with tight, binding knots, working steadily. At one point, Mr. Shern had to come and stand next to her to ensure she wouldn’t fall: her legs were pressed so tightly together, the slightest movement threatened to send her crashing to the floor. She thought he would keep going up her thighs, but Mr. Cox only worked the rope up to slightly past her knees, leaving clear her cuts.

Next came her torso, and Khloe could see from Mr. Cox’s expression this was the hardest part. He was being very careful now, deciding how many times to loop the rope and what kinds of knots to use. He began to use the metal rings now, too, pressing them against Khloe’s body and weaving the rope around and through, until Khloe’s torso was neatly lined with rings. One ring was even snuggled between her soft tits.

“Take a breath,” Mr. Cox ordered. Khloe sucked in her breath and held it, and Mr. Cox began to circle the rope around her breasts, crossing and weaving it like stitch work, until her breasts were laced and tied down snug. The rope ran on either side of her nipples, rubbing every time she moved. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange, and she couldn’t do anything about it to move the rope away.

As Mr. Cox continued to bind Khloe’s body, she could feel her mind going blank. Her breath slowed, her eyes closed, and her thoughts drifted away, as if she were in a daze.

She was completely immobilized, trussed up tight, and yet, she wasn’t panicking. She was scared, yes, worried about what was to come. But she was letting the fear in, letting it lap against her thoughts like a gentle tide. She was entering a new level of subspace, submitting to her body’s reactions to being tied and controlled, and it felt good.

“Almost done,” Mr. Cox’s voice rang out, waking her from her trance. “But she needs to lean over the bed for this.”

“Khloe, I’m going to help you lean you over the bed,” Mr. Shern instructed, grabbing her gently over the elbow to steady her. With her host’s help, Khloe hopped over to the bed, leaning on his support. The bed was now almost empty of rope, and most of the rings were gone. But the wicked hook still remained, and Mr. Cox now picked it up and walked with it behind her.

“What—”

“Lean forward. Elbows on the bed,” Mr. Shern ordered. Khloe bent her body forward and rested her weight on her elbows. Her forearms were wrapped up tight, and the pose wasn’t very comfortable.

“Lower,” Mr. Shern said. “Head down.” Khloe bent lower, folding her body as much as she could with her arms and legs tied the way they were. She could hear Mr. Cox’s footsteps stopping, and sensed him right behind her.

“What are—”

“Mr. Cox is going to put the hook up your ass,” Mr. Shern said, speaking in a straightforward manner. “I will help him. You will not move.”

“Please, Sir, I—”

“We will go slow. I know it’s going to feel uncomfortable at first, but it needs to be done. Stay down, make as much noise as you need to, but don’t move.”

“Sir, please!”

“She can’t be struggling so much. Shall I cuff her down?” Mr. Cox offered.

“Yes, do that,” Mr. Shern agreed. Khloe could hear the wardrobe opening, and clanging chains being dragged across the floor. A second later, Mr. Cox was standing in front of her from the other side of the bed, attaching one large, leather cuff around both her bound hands. He pulled at the chain snaking away from the cuff and stretched her forward until Khloe’s stomach was pressed hard into the edge of the bed.

When the chain was taut, Mr. Cox looped it into a bolt on the side of the bed frame. Khloe was now chained down to the bed, bent over, and about to take a hook up the ass.

“Spread her cheeks, please,” Mr. Cox said to Mr. Shern.

“Please, please—” Khloe began to panic.

“Has she never had anything anal before?” Mr. Cox asked, his voice only mildly curious.

“She has, many times, but it’s not exactly her favorite activity,” Mr. Shern replied. Stepping to her side, he grabbed her ass cheeks in both hands and pulled them apart, gripping hard. Khloe could feel the room air hitting her most private, delicate parts. She would have run if she could have.

Something slick and wide touched her spasming anus, and Khloe jumped.

“It’s just his finger,” Mr. Shern said. “He’s preparing you.”

Khloe whimpered and buried her face into the mattress. The finger was coating her asshole with lube, poking impertinently into her sphincter a few times with shallow thrusts.

“This will feel cold,” Mr. Shern said, letting her know to prepare herself for the ball. Khloe whimpered louder.

Mr. Shern had spoken the truth, Khloe had taken his cock up her ass before. But it was nothing like this: impersonal, calculated, a mere setup for what was to come.

The cold, slippery edge of the ball touched her asshole, and Khloe could feel her entire body tense up.

“Try to relax, Khloe,” Mr. Shern said. Khloe said nothing, but closed her eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to relax. The metal had obviously been lubed, too, and felt slick against her warm flesh.

The ball was pressed in, pushing against her sensitive sphincter that clenched and tightened in protest. But with gentle, steady pressure, the ball began to slide in, dilating her anus with an aching force.

“Oh, ohhh—” Khloe let out a long, plaintive moan, feeling her asshole being stretched wide. The ball was not overly large, but it was hard and completely unforgiving, and Khloe tried to press her stomach further into the bed to get away from the relentless pressure. This didn’t feel sexual at all. This felt like an invasion.

“Easy now, easy,” Mr. Shern said. Khloe had no idea if he was speaking to her or Mr. Cox. For a brief second, the ball stopped its forward motion, and Khloe had a chance to breathe. Then it was moving in again, pressing home, sliding up her narrow channel and past the tight ring of muscle.

Khloe let out a high-pitched yell as the ball stretched her insides until she felt like she was about to rip apart. But it kept going.

“You’re doing great, Khloe,” Mr. Cox said soothingly. “The widest part is almost in.” He didn’t stop his relentless pressing, and when Khloe tried to move her body away, he moved with her, letting her body’s attempts to push the ball out help him press it in even further.

Khloe’s yells grew into a series of howls as she felt the ball stretching her past all endurance. She was at Mr. Cox’s mercy, and Mr. Cox seemed to be an expert at following the gyrations of Khloe’s hips.

Finally, Khloe could feel the hook slide the rest of the way through. Her ass seemed to naturally swallow it up, until she could feel the curve of the cold metal resting against her back and ass crease. Inside, she felt stuffed, but her asshole was no longer aching quite so badly.

“There we go,” Mr. Shern said, satisfied. He released her ass cheeks, and they snapped closed around the hook. “You can stand up now.”

Mr. Cox moved to uncuff her hands from the bed, and Khloe gingerly stood up. She could feel the ball making its presence known inside her body, hitting different nerve points as she moved.

“Let’s get her under the suspension bar,” Mr. Cox said. Khloe’s eyes widened in alarm. They did mean to hang her in midair.

Both men stood on either side and grabbed her by the arms. Using slow, tiny hops, they moved Khloe to the space of floor right beneath the suspension bar.

Mr. Shern went to the wall to flip the switch, and the suspension bar came down. Khloe realized the thing had been improvised: instead of one bar going across, there were now two bars that crisscrossed each other, forming an X, and what looked like pulleys on two sides.

“Time to fly, Khloe,” Mr. Cox said. Getting the long, heavy pieces of rope off the bed, he began to loop them around the bars, securing them inside the metal rings going down Khloe’s body and between her arms and legs.

It took time, and the use of the pulleys, and more rope. Khloe began to faze out again. She was completely powerless, tied up like a pig being put on a spit, and privy to whatever it was they wanted to do. She could hear her two hosts talking on either side of her, but she wasn’t listening anymore. The hard ball ensconced up her ass didn’t even bother her like it had. She was swimming in and out of subspace.

A few minutes later, Khloe was jolted back to reality when she felt her feet leave the ground. She made a tiny sound of surprise. She was being lifted up in a cradle pose, arms up, legs up, head bent slightly back.

“Let’s anchor your head,” Mr. Cox said, coming around to her side. He looped some rope under Khloe’s shoulders, secured the pieces through a couple rings down her torso, and then attached another ring through Khloe’s hair, resting it at the base of her scalp. Khloe’s head was now supported.

“Almost done,” Mr. Cox announced. Using the same ring at the back of her head, he looped more rope through, but trailed it down her back this time, and then, to Khloe’s dismay, stretched it through the metal ring at the base of the anal hook resting against the crack of her ass.

“Done,” Mr. Cox pronounced, stepping away from her. Khloe glanced down to look at him: his eyes were bright and shiny, filled with proud accomplishment, and a heady dose of lust.

“Can I lift her up more?” Mr. Shern asked.

“Sure, she’s good.”

“Khloe, are you in pain anywhere?”

“No Sir, I’m not,” Khloe said, surprised by her own answer. The ball still felt hard and huge stuffed up inside her, and her nipples were tingling, rubbing against the rope, but she didn’t hurt anywhere. In fact, she felt good. She felt…light. Carefree. The weight of the world had not been lifted off her shoulders, but she had certainly been lifted off the weight of the world.

Mr. Shern rose the suspension bars until Khloe was high in the air, her ass a good three feet off the ground.

“Relax, Khloe,” Mr. Shern said in his gentle voice. “Just relax. Close your eyes.”

The two men made no noise. The room was quiet. Khloe could feel herself relax into the ropes, her thoughts dissipating. For all she knew, she could have been three miles off the ground instead of three feet. Gravity had no hold on her. Her body, and mind, felt free.

She was flying.

“Khloe, can you hear me?” Mr. Shern’s voice came to her as if from the other side of the moon.

“Yes.”

“Do you feel okay? Relaxed?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good.”

He let her sway for another minute. Khloe closed her eyes and sighed in delight.

“Khloe, I want you tell me about Tom.”

Khloe’s eyes snapped open.

“What?”

“Tell me about Tom.”

“What about Tom?”

“Tell me what you liked about him.”

“What, now? Please, Sir, I—”

Smack!

Mr. Shern had retrieved a long, plexiglass cane from the wardrobe, and had smacked it against Khloe’s upturned ass. Khloe shrieked in surprise and pain.

“Tell me about Tom,” he repeated.

Khloe could barely put two thoughts together. The last thing she wanted to be thinking about was Tom.

“I can’t remember, Sir,” she said.

Smack!

Mr. Shern’s voice was cold. “He was your boyfriend. I know you were with him for a reason. Now tell me what you liked about him.”

Khloe closed her eyes and swallowed. Tears gathered in her eyes. Whether it was from the physical pain from the cane, or the emotional pain from her memories, she didn’t know.

“He was patient,” she whispered. “He always took the time to explain things to me, even if I felt stupid for not getting it right away. He asked me my opinion on stuff. And he was fun to be around. He was always thinking up new places to go, new things to see. He was good with my friends. In fact, they loved him. They thought he was the perfect guy.”

The tears were flowing hard now, dripping from her face to the floor.

Mr. Shern circled her head.

“Did you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Khloe was silent.

“Did you think the two of you would last forever? Did you see yourself spending the rest of your life with him?”

Khloe closed her eyes. Mr. Shern didn’t smack her again with the cane: he knew she was taking the time to articulate the words stuck in her head.

“No, I didn’t,” she finally muttered, her voice flat. “I knew Tom and I wouldn’t last.”

“Why not?”

Khloe pressed her lips together, this time in an act of defiance, and Mr. Shern snapped the cane against her ass once more. Khloe squeezed her face in agony. She tried to lift her butt away from him, but found she couldn’t, not with the ball lodged up her asshole.

“Why didn’t you think you and Tom be together forever, Khloe?” Mr. Shern’s voice grew sharp.

“Because he never really understood me,” Khloe cried. “He was always trying to explain things to me, like I was some kind of dumb kid he needed to teach things to, but he never really got what I was thinking. He acted like he appreciated my opinion on stuff, but I knew…” her voice cracked.

“What did you know?”

“I knew most of the time, he was just patronizing me. He would nod his head and look at me like he cared what I was saying, but really, I don’t think he did. I think he was trying not to hurt my feelings. I don’t think he ever really got me. And how can you love someone you don’t understand? Someone you think is stupid?”

“You think he thought you were stupid?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you’re stupid?”

“No.” This had been an issue they’d had to deal with in the past, for Mr. Shern to get Khloe to realize how smart and clever she really was. “I’m not stupid, but maybe I should have been able to see my boyfriend was cheating on me.”

“Were there any signs?”

“No,” Khloe sighed. “The two of them hid the affair well.”

“So you realize it’s not your fault you didn’t know he was cheating on you with your best friend.”

“Yes. But….”

“But?”

“How could he do that to me? How could anyone do that to someone they’re supposed to love? I thought he loved me. But he didn’t, not really. I don’t know if he ever loved me at all.”

Khloe began to sob. She wished she could hide her face in her hands, or at least wipe away her tears. She struggled a bit in the ropes, but all that did was make her sway.

Mr. Shern had pity on her and got her a tissue, holding it to her nose and telling her to blow. He let her cry for a while, wiping her face every now and then, and letting her emotions run out. Finally, the tears slowed.

“How do you feel right now?”

“Right now? Right now I feel tied up and horrible,” Khloe spat.

Mr. Shern grinned. “Good,” he said. He walked away, out of her line of vision. Khloe was left alone to deal with her surprise, and to think.

She did feel angry, and hurt, and betrayed…but she realized: those were normal things to feel. That’s what she was supposed to be feeling: anger and pain. That was how other people dealt with a bad breakup, by letting themselves feel the hurt, not by shutting themselves down so they couldn’t feel anything at all. She needed to let the pain in if she was going to heal.

Up here, suspended off the earth, Khloe had let her emotions in without realizing it. Now she let them ride over the terrain of her heart, pounding it raw. But she wasn’t getting trampled and destroyed. The pain was there, but it wasn’t overwhelming her. She wasn’t afraid.

Khloe didn’t try to hold it back anymore. She let go, purging herself of her misery, cleansing her soul with her screams of betrayal. By the time her voice gave out and her breath slowed, she felt much better. The ropes cradled her in comfort, and the gentle swaying soothed her as she quieted down.

She breathed easy, thinking she was done.

But Mr. Shern was not yet satisfied. As he came back into her line of vision, Khloe saw his lips were frowning in a thin line.

“You were hurt so badly because you found Tom fucking your best friend?”

“Yes.” Her voice was slow, almost drunk.

“I don’t think so, Khloe. Yes, it must have been a shock for you to find them like that. But you admitted a moment ago you never felt like he loved you. Your first reaction when you saw them together should have been one of righteous fury, maybe even vindication, having an excuse to break up with him, at least one that your friends would understand. But you were so hurt, you shut down completely.”

“What, I should have been happy I saw the two of them together?”

Smack! Mr. Shern slapped the cane against her fiery bottom.

“Don’t get lippy. And no, you shouldn’t have been happy. But if you really had already decided you and Tom were doomed to fail, this shouldn’t have made you go back to cutting. Which makes me think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Like what?”

“You tell me. Why did you cut yourself?”

“Because I was hurt.”

“You’ve been hurt worse than this, and you’ve gotten through it. I know you well enough to know by now you should have been strong enough to handle this without cutting.”

“I thought he loved me.”

“No, you didn’t. You told me yourself, you didn’t even think he respected you. You should have been happy to be free of him, not shouldering all the blame of what he did to you. But you’re internalizing the pain, taking his betrayal personally…which makes me think he did something, or said something, that makes you think what he did is somehow your fault. What was it, Khloe? What is it you’re not telling me?”

Khloe remained silent. Mr. Shern sighed, and swung the cane at Khloe’s thighs.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Khloe twisted and screamed. Every time she moved her hips, the ball in her ass stretched and ached.

“What do you want from me!” She screeched.

Mr. Shern continued to rain the blows down on her ass and thighs. “Tell me what was really going on,” he said, his voice loud over the blows. “Tell me why you felt the need to cut yourself.”

“Because I saw my boyfriend fucking my best friend!”

“That’s not the real reason.”

“I don’t know what to tell you!”

“I think you do, Khloe.” The swipes of the cane kept coming, and Khloe screamed with each one.

“Tell me,” Mr. Shern said again, and Khloe knew the cane would keep swiping into her vulnerable flesh until she revealed her deepest, dirtiest secret.

“I WASN”T GOOD ENOUGH!”

The cane stopped.

“Explain.”

“I wasn’t good enough for him, sexually,” Khloe said. Her most humiliating secret, the one she hoped she would take to her grave, was out. “I tried to keep him happy in bed. I did everything I knew how to please him. I thought he was satisfied with me…but I was wrong. I wasn’t enough for him. He wouldn’t have fucked some other girl if I had been enough for him. I must have been a horrible girlfriend who couldn’t keep her man satisfied.”

Khloe’s limbs began to shake. Her thoughts froze, then broke down like shattered glass. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t feel. Fear gripped her heart.

“Easy, easy.” Mr. Shern’s voice was slow and smooth. His warm murmurs against her ear broke through her hardening shell, forcing it back, and Khloe took a deep, shuddering breath. Then he pinched one of her nipples and twisted it between his fingers until Khloe shrieked.

As soon as Mr. Shern saw her eyes refocus, saw her limbs stop their involuntary shaking, he let go. “You’re safe, Khloe,” he said, caressing her wounded nipple. “You’re okay.” He squeezed and fondled her breasts inside the rope.

Khloe let her body go limp.

Mr. Cox, who had been standing off to the side this whole time, now stepped forward. He came around Khloe’s other side and began to caress every inch of skin he could feel between the thick strands of rope. Khloe moaned and tried to arch her body, curling back up only when she felt the pull of the anal hook.

“You think you didn’t know how to satisfy Tom? You weren’t woman enough to please him?” Mr. Shern’s voice was as gentle as his grazing hands.

“Yes.” Khloe could barely talk. The two men were fondling her, squeezing her, bringing her to a new and unexpected rise of arousal.

“You are wrong, Khloe. You’re enough woman for any man. You are sensual and beautiful, and any man would be lucky to have you, including Mr. Cox and I.”

Khloe didn’t answer. Mr. Shern tugged at her nipples, extending them beyond the ropes. Khloe’s eyes furrowed as she made a tiny whimper of pain.

He held her nipples out as he addressed the other man. “Mr. Cox, shall we show Khloe how desirable she is?”

“I was afraid you’d never ask,” Mr. Cox replied.

He stepped in front of her lifted legs and slid his hand up and down her exposed pussy. Khloe cried out, a sound of rising need. Her cunt was slick and wet, but her vaginal lips were pressed tightly together because of her binds.

“We need to get her down. I want to do this right.” Mr. Cox’s voice was urgent.

“Yes,” Mr. Shern agreed. “Khloe, we’re going to take you down now. Just relax, and we’ll have you on the bed in a few minutes.”

As the two men worked fast to free her from her bonds, they seemed to take every opportunity to fondle, grope, and stroke her body. Khloe could do nothing but moan and pant, restrained by the rope and the hands of the two men working as quickly as they could to free her.

At last, her feet touched floor, and Khloe let out a deep, slow sigh. The rope was pulled away, and Khloe fell into the strong arms and chest of Mr. Cox. She looked down: her whole body showed the intricate impressions of the rope.

She felt weak and drained. Mr. Cox picked her up, cradling her like a sleepy child, and carried her over to the bed, resting her on top of it gently.

With half-hooded lids, Khloe watched as the two men undressed, stripping off their clothes and throwing them haphazardly onto a nearby shelf. They finished at almost the same time, and climbed into bed with her, one on each side. Immediately, they began to stroke and caress her body, using their wide hands to touch every inch of her.

Khloe began to twist and jerk in the sheets, feeling her skin flush from the thorough and worshipping attention of her body. She moaned as Mr. Cox took one of her puffy nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. Then he flicked it with his tongue and bit it gently. Khloe’s torso came off the mattress: she grabbed his head with both hands, digging into his hair and pulling. Mr. Cox pushed her back down and moved on to her other nipple.

As Mr. Cox paid homage to her breasts, Mr. Shern was working her legs, starting with her ankles. He was massaging and kissing them, slowly working his way up her knees and thighs, until he was kneeling between her legs, lathing each inner thigh with broad licks of his tongue. When Khloe moved to bring her legs together, shutting him out, Mr. Shern pushed her knees apart, giving him ample room.

With Mr. Shern working her upper half, and Mr. Cox working her lower, the stimulation became too much for Khloe. She began to struggle and push the men off, trying to regain a measure of control.

Mr. Shern’s head popped up from between Khloe’s legs. “Mr. Cox, go get some restraints, please.”

“Of course.” Mr. Cox padded to the wardrobe and retrieved some cuffs, snaps, chain, and a stiff metal spreader bar. He handed the pair of ankle cuffs and the spreader bar to Mr. Shern. Then he took control of Khloe’s wrists, cuffing them together and snapping the cuffs to a bolt screwed into the headboard. Khloe’s arms were now stretched taut above her head, useless.

Mr. Shern placed the ankle cuffs on her quickly, then put the spreader bar between them and locked everything in place. He raised the spreader bar, taking Khloe’s legs with it, and chained it to a well-placed hook in the slat that went across the corner posts of the bed. Khloe’s hips were still resting comfortably on the mattress, but her legs were spread and elevated.

Once the two men decided she was properly stretched and restrained, they got back to work, exploring and tasting Khloe’s body. Mr. Cox straddled her lean torso, playing with her breasts, as Mr. Shern reclaimed his place between her legs, spreading her wet folds open for his mouth and teeth and tongue.

Khloe twisted this way and that, trying to get away from brazen hands and tongues that were sending her to the edge and making her lose all control, but couldn’t. Mr. Shern’s devilish tongue lapped her wet pussy as Mr. Cox worked expertly on her swollen extended nipples. Both men were bringing her to the edge of orgasm, but when they saw she was almost there, ready to come, they would pull back, forcing her to wait for release. Her orgasm was up to them to let loose, and as Masters of the Hotel Bentmoore, they knew how to control her body well.

Khloe was soon lying in a pool of sweat and cunt juices, begging to be allowed to come.

“Please, please….”

Mr. Shern had been running his tongue around her labia and stabbing it into her pussy. He was careful not to hit her clit. He knew, at this point, the slightest stimulation would make her come.

“You look so beautiful, Khloe: flushed hot, and begging to come. No man would have the strength to resist you like this. Do you know that?”

Khloe didn’t answer, but moaned again as Mr. Cox pushed her breasts together so he could rake his tongue over both her nipples. Mr. Shern raised his head up, and Mr. Cox moved to the side, continuing her nipple torture by flicking them with his fingernails.

“Say you’re a good fuck, Khloe. Say it.” Mr. Shern knew the coarse words would pull her out of her aroused daze and get her attention, and he was right.

Khloe lifted her head to peer at her host between her legs.

“But I’m not a good fuck.”

“Yes, you are. There’s nothing wrong with admitting it.”

“But—”

Mr. Shern pressed his lips against her labia, giving her folds the barest of kisses, then raised himself up to look her in the face.

“Say it, Khloe.”

“I’m…I’m a good fuck.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Louder.” Mr. Shern’s lowered his head back to her cunt. Khloe sucked in her breath, watching as her host’s face disappeared between her spread legs. His cool breath blew over her wet, warm skin, making her shiver.

Mr. Shern pressed the tip of his tongue right onto Khloe’s throbbing clit, but didn’t move it further.

Khloe groaned in frustration. “I’m a good fuck,” she repeated. Her voice was a fraction stronger, and heavy with desire.

“Louder.” Mr. Shern moved his tongue over her clit slowly, grazing the tip, and Khloe shuddered.

Her voice was deep with conviction as she said again, “I’m a good fuck.”

“Much better. Keep saying it. I want to hear you scream it as you come.” Mr. Shern started to lap her clit, using wide strokes of his tongue, and Khloe’s body arched off the bed.

“I’m a good fuck! I’m a good fuck! I’m a good fuck! Oh! Oh God—”

Mr. Shern took Khloe’s clit between his lips and pulled, and Khloe came with blinding speed, shooting her hips off the bed and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Mr. Shern didn’t stop until Khloe had finished convulsing with her last aftershock. The power of her orgasm made her breath come out in short wheezes.

As Khloe lay limp on the bed, her breath returning to normal, the two men went about uncuffing her wrists and ankles from the restraints. They handled her limbs carefully, knowing she had no strength left in them. As soon as she was completely free, Khloe turned her side, snuggled her face into the pillow, and closed her eyes.

The two men got comfortable next to her, sandwiching her narrow body between them, and let her rest. Khloe felt safe and warm, nestled between the two hard and hot bodies.

But after a while, they began to caress her once more, sliding their hands over and around her warm satiny flesh. Behind her, Mr. Cox began to rub and squeeze her ass, while in front of her, Mr. Shern started to fondle and pinch her nipples.

Khloe began to respond to the gentle stimulation with twists, jerks, and moans. She rubbed her hands up and down the arms and back of Mr. Shern while grinding her ass into the hard body of Mr. Cox.

Very quickly, the three people maneuvered themselves around so that this time, the two men could claim access to her holes. Khloe soon found herself in the corner of the bed, on her back, her legs spread wide.

Mr. Shern was thrusting inside her hot clenching pussy while Mr. Cox stood by her face, his cock taking possession of her mouth. As Mr. Cox began to pump his hips, plunging his cock between Khloe’s jaws, Mr. Shern shoved and grinded his hard prick deep inside her tight cunt.

Mr. Cox rammed brutally, breaching her throat. Khloe grabbed his cock by the base, trying to gain some control over his rhythm and thrusts. But Mr. Cox grabbed her hand away and held it, squeezing it gently with his fingers. With his other hand, he pulled her head further in, bringing his cock all the way down her gullet, and continued to pump hard.

Mr. Shern was using strong thrusts, too, grabbing her by the knees and pounding in. He put her legs over his shoulders so she wouldn’t be shoved up the bed and break his associate’s hold on her mouth.

Khloe began to make a few high-pitched and plaintive yelps around Mr. Cox’s prick. Neither man slowed down, but Mr. Cox sighed in ecstasy at the feel of the vibrations coming from her throat.

Mr. Shern began to rub Khloe’s clit, using a tight circular motion of his hand. Khloe moaned deeper around Mr. Cox’s prick and pressed her legs into Mr. Shern’s back.

Soon, all three of them were coming loudly, Mr. Cox into her stuffed and dripping mouth, Mr. Shern into her spasming pussy, and Khloe around both of them. She shrieked as she came, or would have if her mouth hadn’t been muffled with cock. Mr. Cox let his cum explode down her throat, and Khloe swallowed it all in big gulps. Then Mr. Shern was coming too, spraying his cum into her welcoming pussy that held him like a tight fist.

They rested again, then the two hosts helped Khloe to dress. She felt all warm and gooey inside, like melted honey.

Mr. Shern took both her hands in his own as he stood before her, taking in her clouded eyes and languid stance. He smiled.

“Do you understand now how wonderful you are? How any man should feel lucky to have you?”

“I know I feel very lucky right now, after what you and Mr. Cox just did to me.”

Mr. Shern frowned. “What we just did to you?”

“I’m sorry Sir. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It came out wrong.” She put a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and smiled weakly. “I meant, I’m grateful for what the two of you did for me.”

“Mmm.” Mr. Shern did not look pleased. Khloe was too dazed to notice. “I don’t think I’ll take your wrist cuffs off you just yet. I want to see you again tomorrow morning.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I think we have some unfinished business.” He pressed the call-button on the wall to summon the liaison. “But until then, you are free to enjoy yourself however you wish. I don’t think I have to worry about you hurting yourself inside the hotel.”

“No Sir.” Khloe’s eyes became bright and glassy. “Thank you for your help, Sir. And also to you, Mr. Cox.”

“You’re welcome.” Mr. Cox grinned.

“Don’t say goodbye to him just yet, Khloe. You’ll be seeing him again tomorrow.”

“I will?”

“Yes, you will. But don’t worry, no more ropes or hooks.”

The door opened, and the liaison moved aside to give Khloe room to pass. There was no time to ask any further questions. She would have to wait until tomorrow to see what else her host had in store.

~ * * * ~

The next day, Khloe woke up bright and early, opening her eyes to warm sunlight pouring into her room from the window. She had forgotten to close the shades yesterday.

A smile spread across her mouth. It was a beautiful summer day, and she felt wonderful.

She dressed quickly, went down to the dining room, and had the pleasure of ordering whatever she wanted. As she ate, she passed some nods and quick smiles to the guests around her. They all smiled and nodded back, feeling the effects of her good mood, and reciprocating gladly.

Her liaison found her in the lobby. He let her know she had two hours before she was expected in the activity room, and could spend them however she wished. Khloe was grateful for the news: it gave her time to relax in the hot tub before she would need to get ready to see Mr. Shern.

As Khloe sank into the hot tub, letting the heat permeate her muscles, she admired all the sleek and toned bodies surrounding the pool. Many of the women wore skirt-type bottoms, long ones that covered their asses and thighs, probably to shroud the marks covering them. Others wore skimpy bikini bottoms to show off welts and bruises, either because they chose to, or because they were ordered to by their Tops and Doms. Even some of the men had marks going across their skin, evidence of their recent submission.

As Khloe dressed in her room for her time ahead with Mr. Shern, she wondered what he would have in store for her. He had promised her no more rope or anal hooks, and while she was relieved she didn’t have to fear anything metal going up her ass, she was rather sad to know there was no suspension planned for her. Maybe Mr. Shern could arrange another suspension for her on her next visit, Khloe thought. She smiled.

Mr. Phillips arrived, and Khloe gave herself a mental shrug. Whatever it was Mr. Shern had planned, Khloe knew she could trust him implicitly.

But when she entered the activity room and looked around, she realized Mr. Shern was not the only man waiting for her, and it wasn’t just Mr. Cox with him, either.

No less than six men were in her activity room, milling about and talking amongst themselves. The room had an aura of maleness to it: Khloe could smell their unique manly scents, and sense the mingling levels of testosterone.

She immediately reacted to it. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck. It was a heady feeling for her: she was the only woman in a room full of hot, raunchy men, all self-assured and good-looking Masters of the Hotel Bentmoore, who all seemed to be there waiting for her.

As Khloe scanned the room, her eyes immediately fell on her host, Mr. Shern. He was talking to a tall, blond fellow, a man Khloe knew to be another host of the Hotel Bentmoore, Mr. Sinclaire.

A few feet away them, she saw Mr. Cox deep in conversation with a man Khloe had been introduced to, but only once. What was his name? Mr. Lamont? The name felt right. Like all the hosts of the Hotel Bentmoore, Mr. Lamont looked exceptionally handsome, although in a different way: his looks were decidedly graceful, almost boyish. With narrow shoulders, tight hips, and a slim torso, he looked like the perfect model for a New York runway.

Mr. Lamont made some kind of joke, and Mr. Cox tipped his head back and laughed. Khloe turned her eyes to the last pair of men standing on the other side of the room.

These two Khloe had never met, but she thought she recognized one of them by reputation alone: Mr. Dean. He was the shorter, younger, and darker of the two. The older, lighter gentleman, Khloe knew not at all.

Mr. Shern caught a view of her out of the corner of his eye, stopped talking to his associate mid sentence, and turned to walk her way. The other men, sensing his shift in focus, turned to face her, too.

“Good morning, Khloe,” Mr. Shern said. “How are you today?”

“Fine, Sir,” she replied. “I’m feeling much better.” Her voice was light, but she continued to look around the room as she spoke, not bothering to hide her confusion as to what the men were all doing there.

Mr. Shern put his hands on her shoulders to focus her. “Khloe, it occurred to me yesterday maybe I hadn’t handled your situation as well as I should have. I don’t think I let you leave with the right impression.”

“What do you mean, Sir?”

“You said you didn’t think you were able to satisfy Tom sexually. That you weren’t ‘woman’ enough for him.”

“Yes, that’s true Sir.” A blush rose up her cheeks.

“I hope I made you understand yesterday you are a very desirable young woman, with the power to arouse any man you put your mind to.”

“Yes, Sir.” She smiled and looked down demurely. Mr. Shern raised her chin with his finger, bringing her eyes back.

“But that was not what really concerned you, was it? Being able to grab the attention of a man is not the same thing as holding it, as well you know. Lots of beautiful women are disasters when it comes to the arts of satiating a man’s sexual hunger. They have all the right looks, but don’t know how to deliver the goods. I don’t want you leaving the hotel thinking you are one of those women, Khloe.”

Khloe’s brows furrowed as she began to fear she knew what all the other men were doing there. “You’re right, that still scares me,” she admitted. “But I don’t see how—”

“I’m not letting you leave this hotel until you realize, beyond a doubt, you know how to satisfy a man. So I’ve asked some of my associates to join us, and help you get the message.” He put his hand out and circled the room. “You are going to fuck all of us.”

“What?”

“If you can satisfy six Masters of the Hotel Bentmoore, there’s no way you can doubt yourself again.”

“I have to satisfy all six of you?” Khloe’s eyes widened in fear. “I don’t know if I can do that, Sir. Please, Mr. Shern, there’s no way—”

“You can do it, Khloe. We’ll help you complete your task. But know this: you are not leaving this room until all of us are done.” His voice took on a tone that brokered no argument, and Khloe paled.

Mr. Shern grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around the room. “Before you get undressed, let me introduced you to everyone here. You already know Mr. Cox.” From across the room, Mr. Cox gave her a tiny dip of his head in acknowledgement. “I think you may already know Mr. Lamont?” Khloe nodded, and Mr. Lamont offered her a wide, lecherous smile. “The other men are Mr. Sinclaire, Mr. Dean, and Mr. Harden.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Khloe said with a shaking voice, trying to keep to the social necessities. These men were all about to fuck her ferociously, and probably simultaneously. It was only polite she should know their names, was it not? A nervous giggle tried to escape her throat, and she swallowed it back down.

“Now let’s get started,” Mr. Shern said. “I think we should all get undressed. Gentlemen, if you would please?”

All six men began to unbutton their shirts, including Mr. Shern. As they stripped naked, Khloe stood there, watching.

“Why aren’t you doing what I asked you to do, Khloe?” Mr. Shern asked as he stepped out of his trousers.

“Because I don’t know if I can do this, Sir. Please, can we talk about this? I…I….”

“You can do this, Khloe. That’s exactly what I want you to understand. You’re woman enough for anyone, even us, even all six of us at once. But you’ll never believe me unless we prove it to you. So get undressed.”

“But what if I can’t? What if….” Doubt contorted her features.

“Please get undressed on your own, Khloe. I don’t want to have to ask the other men to help me strip you. It would only embarrass us both.”

Realizing she had no choice, Khloe quickly took off her clothes. Fear made goosebumps rise along her arms. Her legs began to quake.

Her thoughts sifted and fell from her mind like drifting snowflakes until she had no thoughts left. Her mind was going blank.

“Oh, no,” Mr. Shern said sternly, looking her in the eyes. “You are not going to shut down now. I need you focused on right here, right now.”

He slapped her hard across the face. Khloe’s head snapped to the side; she cried out. But when she brought her face back around, her eyes were clear and sharply focused on her host.

“That’s better,” Mr. Shern said. “Stay with us, Khloe. You’re safe, you’re fine. Everything will be okay.”

Khloe took a long, shuddering breath. “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir. What would you like me to do?”

“How about we start with you on your knees. That’s it, just kneel on the floor there. Straighten your back. Sit up tall.” Mr. Shern gestured around the room. “Gentlemen, I believe Khloe is ready to start. Would any of you care to let her get a taste?”

None of the randy men in the room needed to be asked twice. They joined Mr. Shern in making a circle around Khloe, cocks in hand, pushing their lengthening members towards her head.

Khloe took Mr. Shern’s in her mouth first, letting it slide all the way down her tongue until it hit the back of her throat. She pumped her face up and down his stiffening prick a few times until it was good and hard, and then felt Mr. Shern put his large hand on her face as he pushed her over to take the next man.

The one standing next to Mr. Shern, waiting his turn, was Mr. Harden. Mr. Harden’s cock was thick and wide, and Khloe had to stretch her lips open to accommodate it. But she managed, and soon Mr. Harden was thrusting into her mouth with little grunts. He did this a few times before shoving her off to the next man over, Mr. Dean.

Mr. Dean’s cock was already rigid, with thick veins pulsing right underneath the skin. Khloe let her lips slide down his length until she felt his short pubic hairs tickling her upper lip, then stopped. Mr. Dean gasped, then sighed when he felt her tongue circle his broad base. Khloe flicked and licked, and Mr. Dean began to lunge in and out of her playful mouth, holding her head still as he did so.

“Share, Mr. Dean,” Khloe heard. She was grasped by the arm and pulled over to the owner of the voice, Mr. Lamont. Mr. Lamont gave Khloe no time to study his cock, but shoved it between her teeth as soon as he was in range of her mouth, making Khloe gag. Like Mr. Dean, he grabbed her by the back of the head and held her still, thrusting hard. Spit began to dribble from Khloe’s mouth as she struggled to maintain control, taking choking breaths whenever she could.

“My turn.” Khloe was pulled again, this time by Mr. Sinclaire. Khloe caught herself before falling between his legs. As she lifted her face, her eyes widened when she saw his cock: Mr. Sinclaire’s prick was enormous, much more than she could possibly fit in her mouth. But she had only a split second to gasp in fear before he was pressing it in, forcing her to open wide and take it all.

Khloe let out a series of high-pitched cries around his cock: it was stabbing the back of her throat, forcing its way farther down, and Khloe couldn’t get a handle on it. Thick tears pooled her eyes as they watered from the exertion. Her forehead beaded with sweat.

“Don’t suffocate the poor girl.” Khloe was grabbed by the hair and pulled off Mr. Sinclaire’s suffocating cock. For a couple seconds, she gasped for air, taking huge gulps like a fish. Then she was situated in front of the next cock and forced to open her mouth once more.

This cock happened to belong to Mr. Cox. Mr. Cox held her chin and pulled it down gently, opening her mouth wide as Khloe continued to catch her breath. He tickled her tongue with his prick.

“Whenever you’re ready, Khloe,” he said, his voice light with humor. Some of the other men chuckled. Khloe gave him a grateful smile before tightening her grip around his cock with her lips and hallowing out her cheeks. She sucked hard, sliding her mouth up and down his velvety skin. Her way of saying thank you for all his help, including rescuing her from Mr. Sinclaire’s demanding cock. Mr. Cox closed his eyes and sighed.

Khloe took pains to pleasure Mr. Cox for the few minutes she was granted, using all her tricks with her mouth and tongue to bring him to the height of arousal, until she felt his cock jump in her mouth, and she thought he might come right then. Then she was suddenly pushed away. His cock made a popping noise out of her mouth as it jumped free.

“I don’t want to come like this, Khloe,” Mr. Cox admonished her. “At least, not yet.”

Khloe smiled up at him, a wicked, knowing grin, and Mr. Cox gave her a playful look of reproach. She smiled wider. She felt very smug, drunk with her own power over the group of men. She was doing it, she was pleasing them all.

“I think we should move her,” Mr. Cox said to Mr. Shern. “Time to liven things up.”

“Agreed. Let’s get her on the bed.”

They lifted Khloe off the floor and half walked, half dragged her to the bed, lowering her down on it and surrounding her quickly. Mr. Lamont crawled over the mattress to her head and pointed his cock at her face. Khloe opened her mouth, and he claimed it swiftly with a triumphant growl.

Two other men planted themselves at her sides, and Khloe extended her hands to grasp and stroke their cocks. But that still left three men unattended, a fact they noted with consternation.

“She needs to be put on top of one of us,” Mr. Dean said. “Which one will it be? Mr. Shern, you are her host. What say you?”

“You may have the honor of taking her pussy first, Mr. Dean. Mr. Lamont, since you are already making use of her mouth, I see no reason for you to change positions now, but let Mr. Cox share. Harden and Sinclaire, you will be putting her hands to work.”

“And what about you?” Mr. Sinclaire asked.

“I am going to be making good use of her ass.”

At that, Khloe turned and looked at her host in fear. All the confidence she had been reveling in a minute ago was gone.

“I have to take two of you inside me at once?” Her voice was a high-pitched squeak.

“Get her up so Mr. Dean can lie down,” Mr. Shern said, ignoring her. “We need to get her positioned right.”

They pulled her aside, and Mr. Dean lay down on the bed close to the bottom, with his knees bent over the edge. His veined cock lay thick across his stomach, reaching up to his belly button.

Mr. Lamont and Mr. Cox each grabbed one of her arms and helped her straddle Mr. Dean. Then, slowly, they let her ease down on his prick, holding her pussy open to smooth the way. Khloe’s whole face scrunched up as she felt herself go slack against Mr. Dean’s groin. She already felt very stuffed inside, and instinctively tightened out of fear of what was about to happen.

The men gave her no time be consumed by worry. They put her hands on their cocks, covered them with their own, and pumped them up and down, letting her know what she should be focusing on. Khloe soon got back into the task, and began to give Mr. Sinclaire and Mr. Harden the best hand jobs she ever had. Meanwhile, she opened her mouth and immediately received Mr. Lamont’s prick, which he happily stuffed into her face.

Vaguely, she heard Mr. Shern shuffling behind her.

Then she felt a finger probing her ass.

Khloe yelped around the cock in her mouth. Mr. Lamont grabbed her head to keep her attached to his prick, thrusting even harder into her face.

Mr. Sinclaire gripped her hand that had stopped moving around his prick. She had been shocked still by Mr. Shern’s probing.

“Don’t stop, Khloe,” he ordered. Khloe resumed her gentle yanking, but her eyes grew wide with fear as she felt Mr. Shern’s thick digit shove up her bottom. He had coated it with lubricant, and was now using it to grease her back passage so it would be ready for something much larger.

Mr. Cox grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her by the hair to twist her face around to his cock. Khloe cried out, and continued to cry out as his cock slid down her throat. Her muffled plaintive cries became louder as she felt the helmeted tip of Mr. Shern’s cock press through her sphincter.

Khloe tried to focus on the four other cocks in front of her and the one buried up her pussy, not on the one pushing itself deep up her rear channel. She pumped the pricks in her small fists and worked hard to tease and tantalize the two pricks sharing her mouth. She sucked and licked and flicked and groped each cock presented to her, listening in satisfaction as the four men groaned in delight.

But Mr. Dean was still filling up her pussy, and Mr. Shern continued to cram himself in from behind, stretching her asshole painfully. Finally, when she thought she could stretch no more, she felt Mr. Shern stop. He was all the way in. She could feel his groin press against her buttocks, shoving her forward up Mr. Dean’s cock.

As she continued to suck and pull at the four cocks she was working on, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Mr. Dean give a nod to the man behind her. Then, he lifted her by the hips and pulled his prick back, sliding it out of her hot pussy until only the tip remained inside her. Then, just as slowly, he eased her back down.

As Mr. Dean let gravity pull Khloe back onto his cock, Mr. Shern pulled out of her ass, giving Mr. Dean more space. The feel of both pricks sliding across her sensitive inner flesh made Khloe gasp. She had never felt anything like it. It still hurt, a little, but the pain was quickly subsiding. What she felt now was rising pleasure.

Again, Mr. Dean eased out of her pussy as Mr. Shern eased into her ass, and Khloe groaned around Mr. Lamont’s cock. What they were doing to her felt wicked and perverted. She was being used like a shameless slut, servicing them like a raunchy whore. Khloe had never been so aroused in her life.

Very soon, all six men were gyrating, rocking, thrusting and pumping against her, making use of all of her holes. Khloe had little control over how she moved: she was being pulled and pawed, with each man demanding her complete focus.

Mr. Lamont and Mr. Cox took quick turns grabbing at her face, using her mouth like an open wet cunt waiting to be filled. Mr. Dean drove into her pussy as Mr. Shern fucked her ass, neither one of them caring anymore about timing their thrusts. They moved instinctively now, pounding her body, and Khloe yelled and hollered like a bawdy slut.

They came within minutes of each other, coating Khloe in cum. Mr. Harden and Mr. Sinclaire exploded over her shoulders and breasts, while Mr. Cox blasted all over her face. Mr. Dean came in her pussy, but Mr. Shern, in the last minute, pulled out of her ass and let his prick hose her across her back in ropy strands.

As Khloe felt Mr. Shern’s hot cum coat her back, she came herself, screaming around Mr. Lamont’s cock as it continued to erupt in her throat. His thick juices dripped down her chin, mixing with the sticky gobs already drying on her breasts.

They all collapsed across the bed, breathing hard.

Mr. Shern recovered first. For a few moments, he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom to wash off his cock. When he returned, he stood across the bed with crossed arms and spread legs, studying the sweaty and heaving bodies splayed across the bed.

“I got her ass last time, so I suppose I should get her hand next,” Mr. Shern announced. Khloe raised her head to look at him in surprise. She had thought they were done!

“I want her pussy this time,” Mr. Sinclaire said.

“I get her mouth,” Mr. Harden replied.

“And I get her ass,” Mr. Dean said.

Khloe balanced on her elbows and looked around the group of men. They were all looking back at her, lascivious grins spread wide across their faces. They reminded her of a pack of wolves, closing in on their prey.

She was about to protest, try to claim she didn’t have the strength to bring them all to orgasm again. But then Mr. Dean stroked and pinched one of her nipples, Mr. Harden plumped up and licked the other, and Mr. Sinclaire spread her legs wide to send his tongue gliding along her clit, and Khloe knew she did have the strength after all.

By the time they were done, each man had taken a turn with her hand, mouth, pussy, and ass. All except Mr. Sinclaire, who didn’t dare try to breach her back passage. He was simply too big.

As they helped her get dressed, caressing and petting her as they did so, the men thanked Khloe for all her hard work and obvious care. Khloe drank in their praises, proud of what she had accomplished.

“You still think you weren’t good enough for Tom?” Mr. Shern teased her as he removed her bands. They would no longer be needed. Khloe could be trusted now on her own to leave the hotel.

Khloe smiled with dazed eyes: it was the smile of a woman who had recently been well and thoroughly fucked, and knew the power of her own feminine wiles.

“Oh no, Sir. I’m thinking now, maybe Tom wasn’t really good enough for me. I deserve someone much better.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And I don’t have to worry anymore about you cutting, right?”

“Right, Sir.” Her eyes focused on her host, and became conspicuously moist. “Thank you again, Mr. Shern, for everything. You always know exactly what I need. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mr. Shern pressed the button to summon the liaison, the door opened, and Mr. Phillips stood outside, waiting for her to walk through the threshold.

“You don’t have to thank me, Khloe. That’s why we’re here. Take care of yourself.”

Khloe raised herself on tiptoes and kissed Mr. Shern on the cheek.

Then she left the room quickly before the tears started to fall. Mr. Shern put his hand to his cheek and held it as he watched her disappear from the door.

Once he knew she was down the hall and out of earshot, he turned around to look at the other men. They were all sprawled about, looking only semi-conscious.

“Who has another guest they have to be ready for in the next hour?”

Two of the men groaned. The others laughed.

Postscript

Khloe stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the front desk, bag in hand. She was ready to go home. All she had to do was check out.

A man leaning on the front counter and talking softly with the desk clerk blocked her path. Khloe couldn’t see his face, but there was something familiar about him. Something….

“Adam?”

The man turned around, and Khloe’s hand rose to her mouth in surprise.

“Do I know you?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. Kind of.” Khloe waved her hand away, suddenly embarrassed. “You’re the one who drove me here, years ago, after you found me in the bathroom….”

“Yes, I remember,” he cut in, saving her from further embarrassment. “Your name is Khloe, right?”

“Yes.” Khloe’s face flushed with pleasure. He remembered her name.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, but you look so…different. Better.”

Khloe felt her face grow even hotter. “Thank you. I am better. This place has really helped me.”

“That’s good.” Adam continued to stare at her, raking his eyes across her face, down her body, resting for a moment on her swelling breasts, then finally coming back to her eyes. Khloe felt her chest tighten and her cunt tingle in response.

“Are you here visiting the hotel? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was totally inappropriate.”

“No, it’s okay,” Adam laughed, a rich, deep chuckle. “In fact, I’m not. I’m visiting my brother. He works here.”

A sinking feeling fell through Khloe’s belly. “Oh really? Who is he?”

Understanding came into Adam’s eyes. “Mr. Pierce. Do you…know him?”

“No, I don’t, sorry.” Her voice sounded anything but disappointed.

“Oh, that’s okay.” Relief was clear in his voice. “There are so many hosts here, there’s no way a woman could know them all. So, are you just arriving, or…?”

“Actually, I’m checking out.”

“That’s too bad.” The look in his eyes matched the sincerity in his voice.

“Time to start the drive home,” Khloe sighed, sorry there was no more time.

But Adam’s face suddenly looked excited. “Drive? You live close by then?”

“I guess so, relatively. I live about an hour west of here.”

“Really? Me too.”

They stared at each for another moment. Khloe waited for him to say something, anything, that would keep their mild flirtatious banter going, but when it was clear he wouldn’t, the fingers of hope that had been tapping down her spine soon stopped.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again,” Khloe said. “I never got a chance to say thank you for helping me that day. You really saved me.”

“You’re welcome.”

He moved aside to give her room at the counter, and Khloe signed the paperwork to formally check out. She said goodbye to the desk clerk, gave a last smile to Adam, and turned to exit the lobby.

“Khloe,” Adam called after her. She turned to find him running toward her. “You really want to thank me?”

“Yes….”

“Let me take you out for dinner sometime. That would be a good way to thank me.”

The grip of hope returned full force to squeeze her heart so hard she could barely breathe. “I can do that,” she said. “Let me, um, let me give you my number.” She fished inside her bag for a pen. Cellphones were not allowed in the hotel lobby: nothing with a camera was permitted out in the open.

“Let me.” Adam ran to the front desk, came back holding a pen and a piece of paper, and quickly scribbled something down.

“This is mine,” he said, ripping off the piece and giving it to her. “Don’t lose it, Okay?”

“Okay.” Khloe couldn’t hold back the laughter bubbling over. She put the paper carefully into her purse. “Here’s mine…” She gave him the numbers, and Adam repeated each one back to her to make sure he got it right as he wrote them down. Then he ripped the number off the paper, folded it gingerly, put it in his pocket, and started writing her number down again on a clean edge of the paper.

“Why are you writing it again?” Khloe asked.

“In case I lose the first copy. This way I have a backup.” He ripped the second copy off, too, but this time, put it in his wallet. “I know it looks silly—”

“No no, I do that, too. But I thought I was the only one.”

“Nope. Sometimes I write things down right on my hand, just so I’ll remember. But ink washes off.”

“I do that, too!” Khloe felt like her heart was melting inside her chest. Adam gave her a wide, beautiful smile.

“Here.” He took her hand, opened her fingers, and started writing his number down on her palm. Khloe stared at him in wonder. His hand was warm and strong around hers, and felt perfect. The pen tickled, sending gentle shivers up her arm.

“It was nice to see you again, Khloe. I’ll call you soon.”

“Thank you Adam. I’ll be waiting.”

“Not too long.” He let her hand go, gave her one last look of longing, and disappeared inside the elevator.

Khloe left the hotel feeling better than she had in a very long time.