Dominance and Submission

Emily walked through the halls of the hotel, then out along a path that signs assured her would take her to the numbered suite to which she’d been assigned, uncomfortably aware of how exposed she still was in the apron. She’d never wanted so badly to find a room. That that room would be a suite in some psycho hotel in an alien world that was fucking with her mind for a reality show that would ultimately make her her own boyfriend’s sex **** was, for the moment, immaterial.

It hadn’t been her first instinct. That had been to run to Rachel’s rescue. She’d been devastated by the transformation that had robbed her of her physical fitness, and Emily had wanted nothing more than to run and comfort her, even if she didn’t know precisely how. That, as it turned out, hadn’t been necessary. After sniffling against her as they watched the other contestants change, she’d departed in a hurry. Emily wasn’t terribly surprised; her physical strength wasn’t the only thing Rachel made central to her being. She prided herself on her emotional toughness as well. Having known her since Kindergarten, Emily was well aware how much Rachel hated crying in front of others.

Her heart went out to her best friend, but she had problems of her own. She wasn’t sure what time it was here, but she’d been up since 4:30 AM back home. And between that and the insanity her day had devolved into, she was beyond exhausted. If Rachel wanted to run away, Emily wanted nothing so much as to find a bed and collapse into it.

The suites, as it turned out, were all unique, both in style and placement. All of them were connected to the hotel in some form or fashion, but they were spread out enough directions that some exploration was required. Luckily, the signage was good. As Emily made her way through the corridors, she took mental notes of the various facilities available to them. The lounge, the game room, a ballroom, and a dining room were all among the ones she passed. The brochure that came with their little welcoming package indicated that there were others as well; a library, gym, spa, and bathhouse were among the other amenities outlined, but they have laid in another direction.

She’d almost made her way back to the lobby when the sign pointing to “Suite 01” took her down a hall, where she opened the door to find an open walled suite that led right out onto the beach. There was an assortment of furniture and a pair of beds. Emily noted with some unease that there were no privacy walls, changing areas or any walls of any kind separating the beds. The whole thing had an open floor plan. Not only did the room lack any concessions to privacy, but it would appear she and her roommate would have to share a bathroom as well.

There were trunks at the foot of each bed, and a pair of closets. Their information said their clothes were brought along here with them, and she did need some, but she was, for the moment, too tired to care. She slipped out of the apron, letting it hit the floor, and climbed naked onto the nearest bed before pulling the covers over her. Within moments, she was twitching, her consciousness fading.

It snapped back a short time later as the door opened and closed noisily. She sat up groggily, having momentarily forgotten where she was, or the state of undress she was in. Then, blinking blearily, she felt the ocean breeze, saw the foreign room, and slowly, remembrance dawned.

“Of course you’re the roommate,” a familiar voice said with a sigh.

Emily’s head snapped around to find Hannah staring at her. Emily’s own thought was the same as Hannah’s. Of course. Who better to stir the pot of drama than her boyfriend’s ex? The one person here most likely to steal him. Her disappointment must have shown on her face, because Hannah’s expression turned irritated.

“I don’t like it any more than you, so let’s just stay out of each other’s way.”

Emily straightened quickly, reaching out to her. She remembered her nakedness then, blushed, and pulled the blanket back up to her chest. With her free hand, she brushed a loose, pink bang from her eyes.

“No! I’m sorry!” she said, “I mean, I’m not… it’s not so bad. You’re not…”

She blushed again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… it’s okay.”

Jesus, was she always this articulate?

Hannah raised a hand, turning to look away from her slightly.

“It’s fine… don’t sweat it,” she said. “I’m a bit on edge myself after… y’know, everything.”

“Okay,” Emily said, though she remained frozen in place.

Hannah walked to one of the closets, opened it, and examined its interior.

“Hmm… this one’s definitely yours,” she said, then looked over to the bed. “Which probably means you’re sleeping in my bed there.”

“Oh. Sorry! I just kinda passed out,” Emily said.

Hannah waved a hand.

“Don’t sweat it. And stop apologizing so much.”

Emily felt another meek little ‘sorry’ rise to her lips, but as she opened her mouth to say it, it caught in her throat. A flush of heat washed over her body then, her heart rate jumping. Where the fuck had that come from.

She looked over to Hannah, hoping it didn’t show. Hannah was studying her, but Emily felt she couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. She just nodded in response.

“This is all pretty fancy stuff in here. Dresses, nice skirts, lingerie. That sorta thing,” Hannah said, “Check those chests for me. I have a feeling that’s where the ‘normal’ clothes are.”

Emily’s nipples stiffened, her arousal growing even more intense. What in the hell was happening to her? She was going to go crazy at this rate.

She turned to make sure Hannah wasn’t looking, then, when she was sure she wasn’t, climbed out of the bed. She slipped over to the other one, opening the trunk at its foot. Sure enough, here were t-shirts, denim skirts, shorts and casual underwear. Hannah had also been right that their beds aligned with their closets. These were her clothes and a selection of the ones she thought she looked best in.

“Go on. Get dressed,” Hannah said. “I don’t really wanna see you naked.”

Emily had to fight back a moan. She was on fire as she clumsily rummaged through her clothes, ultimately settling on a tight, hand painted, midriff baring shirt and a pair of red cotton shorts that, while not exactly hotpants, did a marvelous job showing off her ass. As excited as she suddenly was, fitting the bra took a lot of effort. She thought about skipping the underwear, but decided she’d rather fumble around with it than risk her traitorous body telling on her.

She kept looking up toward Hannah, who still had her back to her. But she thought she caught a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes watching her in the closet’s vanity mirror. Was she enjoying this as much as she was? Hannah wasn’t wearing anything more than the bikini she’d been stuck in, and it didn’t take Emily long to decide that she was. That would have been a lot more curious if she weren’t so bewilderingly turned on herself.

“Okay. I’m good,” she finally said, standing up.

She started pulling her hair back. Hannah watched her inquisitively, but stopped just before she put a band around it.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “It’s pretty when it’s down.”

Immediately, she let go, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. That pavlovian heat flowed through her. She was glad she wore underwear now, because she was clearly wet. Suddenly, she had a moment of clarity through the horny fog. This was bad. If whatever was happening kept up, she’d barely be able to control herself.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked. “You look a little… flustered.”

Emily blushed.

“I’m… yeah. I’m good,” she breathed. “I just need to… go to the bathroom, I think.”

“Sure,” Hannah said. “I think I’ll change too.”

Emily headed toward it, moving in quick but precise steps. Just as her hand reached out for the nob, though, Hannah spoke up again.

“Hold up a sec,” she said.

Unable to help herself, Emily stopped and turned. She wanted to cry out; wanted to scream. She was going to explode if she didn’t get some relief, and fast. She turned toward Hannah trying to keep her ragged breath under control.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Let me know when you’re done in there. I could use it myself.”

Emily nodded, then finally opened the door, closed it, and locked it behind her. The moment she was safe inside, she began frantically stripping, pulling her shorts and panties down to her knees in one fluid motion.

Fumbling in the dark (she was so excited that she didn’t even bother with the lights), she lowered herself into the bathtub, hiking a leg up on its surprisingly high wall. Her fingers found her yearning lips and began to rub furiously. She tried, and largely failed to stifle a moan. She rolled her hips, fingers massaging her clit too desperately to be effective. She tried to slow down; to find a rhythm, but her need was too powerful. She thought of Jake, but it didn’t help. Thought of Julian, the gorgeous performance artist who’d given her the night of her life back when she’d first gotten on the scene. Of John, her college boyfriend or even Skylar, the one girl who’d managed to seduce her all the way back when she was just an art school freshman.

But it wasn’t any lover that finally put her over the top. Only when she thought of Hannah and all her bossy, innocuous little commands did she finally get relief. Her back arched and she cried out, heedless of whether or not the woman in question heard her. Check the chests, get dressed, stop apologizing. The pleasure washed over her, turning her to jello as she lay back panting in the tub.