You wait for Naomi

Paul arrived in the bedroom. It was the largest hotel bedroom he'd ever seen, with the nicest furniture too. He immediately laid on the thin white bedsheet. He was so tired from the flight, but he felt bad for Naomi, who had to spend the next couple of hours working. He sat up, not allowing himself to sleep until she was allowed to as well. It was only a couple of hours, he could stay awake for that.

He could only wonder what work they might make her do; she probably had to help out in the kitchen or change some beds, it couldn’t have been that bad. The worst thing would probably be that uniform. Though thinking about it again made you a bit hard.

His mind flashed back to seeing her in that collar, the click of the padlock as it was put on her. No doubt she’d expect him to remove it as soon as she arrived.

As he emptied his pockets, Paul noticed the crumpled leaflet he was handed by airport security.

How to Train Your ****.

He left it on the bed for now, the idea of it turned him on, but it wouldn't be something Naomi would ever be open to. He could hardly **** it on her. It was probably not worth reading, since she wouldn’t be into that sort of thing, he didn’t think so anyway.

There wasn't much else to do but wait around. The TV channels turned out to be pretty boring, so he opened the front page of the pamphlet. There were a few paragraphs about how it’s important for the **** to know their place and that’s why slaves have to wear collars here.

The next few pages were about posture and how as your property, the **** should be exposed to show you their body, since they are your property . There were some pictures of girls posing in different kneeling and standing positions, and Paul thought about how hot Naomi would look like that. It talked about how the positions aren’t just for looking at but for making your **** follow your orders, and remember rules, some uncomfortable positions were for punishment too.

His heart raced as he read it, imagining having Naomi kneeling in front of him in those positions. She sometimes knelt when she was giving a blowjob, but she usually preferred lying on the bed; it wasn't very often he get a blowjob anyway, maybe once a month, and she wouldn't swallow either. Thinking about giving her rules she had to follow turned him on too, and giving her orders, to watch her obey them.

The next page talked about having clear rules for your **** to follow, and ensuring they know what those rules are, and of course: the punishments for not following them.

His cock was raging hard now, his mind filling with different kinds of punishments.

The final page was about punishments. There was a picture of a brunette, white girl in the stocks being caned, red stripes zig-zagging up and down her legs and ass cheeks. It talked about how you mustn’t let a **** get away with disobedience of any kind, whether it’s a look, a refusal or hesitance to follow instructions, or talking back. It talked about different types of punishments: restraints, gags, sensory deprivation, and whipping/spanking/caning.

He put a hand in his pants, feeling the rock hard cock, and a bit of pre cum stuck to his thumb as he though about spanking Naomi. She had such a great ass. She naturally had a bubble butt, and it was made so much better by all the squats she did in the gym. Paul closed your eyes, imagining Naomi in her pink g string thong, bent over, touching her toes as he spanked her. She was smiling the whole time, except when she cried out after each spank.

He put the leaflet away, thinking about whether to try any of those things out with Naomi. She’d not be up for any of that though. Maybe it was worth a try. He’d just have to pick the right moment.

He put their clothes away in the wardrobe, then noticed another wardrobe and decided to take a look inside.

In there were a bunch of bondage toys: any kind of gag you could think of; chains; handcuffs; whips; floggers; canes and riding crops. He closed it for now, wondering whether Naomi would ever let him use any of that on her.

A couple of hours passed, and Naomi returned. Disappointingly, she wasn’t wearing the French maid outfit. Maybe they didn’t make her wear it, or maybe she was given her own clothes back after. She gave Paul a wry smile.

“What did you have to do?” he asked.

“It wasn’t too bad, I just ironed and folded some laundry,” she said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She sighed. “I just wish you’d looked this place up before we came here.”

He nodded, guiltily looking at your feet. "It suppose it looked too good to be true. I just wasn't to surprise you."

“I know." She sighed again. "It’s not too bad, I suppose. I’ll have to work here a couple of hours a day, and wear this stupid collar every time I leave the room. Speaking of that, would you mind.” She widened her eyes, and Paul realised he was staring at her in it, his heart racing at the sight. His hands reached for the key in his pocket.