Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Room 1214

by Jo

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© Copyright 2012 - Jo - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; M/f; hood; cuffs; gag; bfold; caught; bond; oral; sex; toys; climax; cons; X

"Base to 11."


"We have a code from room 1214."


I sprinted down the hall into the stairwell, took the steps two at a time up three flights. I paused before the door to room 1214 to catch my breath.

Code is like an internal 911 call. If the handset is off the hook the phone automatically dials the hotel switchboard. The phones are very touchy and it's easy to leave the handset ever so slightly off. That's the way it's been for the few years I've worked here. Only had one emergency. An old lady fell and broke her wrist.

I knocked on the door.


No answer. I knocked again, slid my card into the slot, pushed the door open.

I smelled vanilla and had a deja vu moment - although it wasn't deja vu - it was real.

The room was dark. A stubby, white candle burned on a tray on the bureau. When I stepped into the room proper, there she was. Regina Simpson. Bound, naked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I breathed a sigh of relief. After the last episode I half expected to get arrested or at the very least lose my job. But here she was again and I realized it was two months to the day since the other time.

Unlike then, she sat calmly, the bedding drawn down and neatly folded. On the nightstand the phone was off the hook. I replaced it and turned on the light. Also on the nightstand were a remote clicker of some sort and a small key.

I stepped over to the woman. She wore a leather hood that covered her entire head except for her mouth. I knew that she had plugged her ears. There was the panel gag and I knew there was a substantial ball behind it wedged securely in her mouth. She had on a wide, leather collar and leather cuffs. A chain connected her wrists high on her back to the collar. She had leather cuffs on her ankles. Everything was secured with small padlocks. And dangling from her nipple rings two small, but surprisingly heavy weights. I hefted one, let it drop, Regina gasped softly behind her gag.

Hello, Regina, remember me?

I raised her feet and rocked her back onto the bed, spread her knees. This was different.

The last time she had one of those cheap butterfly vibrators. This looked similar, but more substantial. I probed beneath it, found the typical clit knob nestled where it should be, but there was a shaft, neither big nor small, buried inside her. Probably held the batteries. I picked up the clicker, pressed a button. The vibe buzzed to life. Interesting.

Regina mmf'd and squirmed. I watched her for a minute, then pivoted her feet up onto the bed, positioned her, and drew the covers over her, covering her completely.

I killed the light.

Out in the hall I thumbed my mike.

"11 to base."


"No code, 1214 is secure."


I looked at my watch, made a notation in my notebook. I had another hour on my shift, so I continued on my last round. Regina would keep.

Two months ago the call had come in, same call, same room. When I'd entered the room the first thing that hit me was the smell of vanilla. A woman sat on the edge of the bed. Even in the dim light I could see she was trembling. I turned on the light. She was naked, leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, a leather hood covering her head, and a wide, panel gag over her mouth.

I contemplated my next move.

On the one hand, there was no emergency. She had put herself into this situation. On the other hand, she had 'called' for help. Obviously something was wrong. On the third hand, she seemed fine, if a bit frightened. On the fourth hand how embarrassing would it be for her if I freed her? On the fifth hand, I could take advantage of the situation.

Decisions decisions.

I took advantage of the situation. I figured she had put herself into that situation to have a bit of kinky fun, so we'd have some kinky fun. And what was she going to do about it? Have me arrested?

"Let me see if I have this right, Miss. You stripped naked, bound and gagged yourself, placed a vibrator between your legs, and you claim the security guard assaulted you?"

"Yes, your honor."

"And yet, you have no proof that said assault took place."

"No, your honor."


Still, I'd worried a bit over the last few weeks.

After I'd made my decision I stripped the other bed and brought the comforter, blanket, and sheet into the bathroom. I laid them in the tub. I stood her up, hefted her, carried her into the bathroom and set her on top of the pile. I folded one side of the sheet over her, tucked it in. Repeated with the other side. I did likewise with the blanket, then the comforter.

Securely wrapped, in the tub, behind a closed bathroom door, she wasn't going anywhere. But still ...

There is a retractable clothesline in the bathroom. I extended it, tried to break it, couldn't, so I cut it with my knife. I reached into the tub that held my captive and tied the end to the lock connecting her ankles. I tied the other end to the drain toggle, pulled hard, nothing happened. Good.

I closed the door, left the room, made the same call I'd just made.

After my rounds that night, I sat at the security desk and wrote my log entry, I moused over to the hotel files and found room 1214 was occupied by one Regina Simpson. There was a scan of her drivers license. Regina was 28 years old, 5'5" tall, weighed 130 pounds, had brown hair and brown eyes. I printed a copy so I'd have a picture of her face. It was a nice face. She had a Mediterranean look to her with a slightly largish nose, deep, brown eyes, and a darkish complexion, or maybe that was just the photo. You know how bad they can be. Anyway, she looked good to me. She had a nice, mature body. Full tits that wouldn't pass the pencil test, but that didn't sag much, either. Her hips were on the broad side and her ass was full and very, very squeezable, as I'd discovered when I carried her into the bath.

According to the register she'd be here for two nights.

After shift change I let myself into the wine storage room and absconded with a couple of bottles. I had a thought, let myself in to another room and grabbed a bottle of cologne. I don't wear cologne. If Regina identified her assailant as wearing a scent, well, it couldn't be me because I don't. I headed upstairs. Everything was as I'd left it. Regina was securely nestled in her soft cocoon. I splashed on some cologne, popped open the wine, poured some out, sipped while I considered my next move.

The first thing that came to mind was the key. I hadn't seen it. Hadn't looked for it, but, still, there had to be a key.

I found it lost in the tumble of sheets. That explained her dilemma. I imagined her enjoying herself, squirming on the bed, perhaps in the throws of a powerful orgasm. The key slips from her hand. Or perhaps she'd simply placed the key on the bed to give herself a little, scary thrill while searching for it. Either way, she was screwed. The key was folded double, a sheet within a sheet.

Sipping wine, I searched her bags. Nothing of interest there, a carry-on and a drag along full of girl stuff, clothes, cosmetics, birth control pills. There was a computer bag. I had at first ignored the gym bag expecting, well, gym clothes. Wrong. She had her own little private stash of bondage gear: some rope, a couple of rolls of tape, a couple of sets of handcuffs, a ball gag, three sets of clamps (one of which looked industrial strength!), five metal rings connected by some chain that formed a kind of stick figure when I held it up, an assortment of dildos, and a couple of butt plugs.

Butt plug? Note to self: Check Regina's ass.

I finished my wine and headed into the bathroom. I cut the cord, unwrapped Regina, hefted her to her feet, checked her ass - no plug. Well, we could remedy that.

I checked the collar. Apparently it was made for the hood since a D-ring penetrated a slot in the collar, fixed in place with a small padlock, the same padlock that also fixed the chain to her wrists.

I removed the chain, unlocked her wrists, relocked them in front. It was safe to have her hands in front the way the collar secured the hood in place. I pulled the vibrator off, set it aside. Then I took her arm and led her a couple of small, shuffling steps to the toilet, sat her down. I unbuckled the panel gag. A large, black rubber ball kept it firmly wedged in her mouth. I tugged it out.

"Please -"

I placed my hand over her mouth. I didn't dare speak. The less she knew about me the better. I'm not the only one who has room keys you know.

I took my hand away.

"Please, I -"

Again I covered her mouth, gave her head a shake, kept my hand there until she nodded.

I waited.

Presently there was the sound of water hitting water. The flow trickled off. Regina fumbled behind her for the toilet paper, tore some off, wiped herself. I pulled her to her feet.

I could have carried her, but I enjoyed the way her tits and ass jiggled as she took small, mincing steps into the room.

I led her over to the sliding glass doors, out onto the balcony. It was well after midnight and the office building across the way was dark. Still, I killed the lights in the room. I poured another glass of wine, eased Regina down onto her knees. It was a pleasant, warm night. Despite the warmth, her large, brown nipples were hard. The gold rings glinted in the stray city lights.

After my second wine, I took Regina to bed and fucked her. I was neither gentle nor harsh. I squeezed, groped, and pinched her just enough to get a little gasp and a squirm out of her. I pulled her cuffed hands over her head, settled my elbow between hers, stuck my leg between hers, prying them open, and caressed her.

She responded.

Not at first, but after not too much stroking (surprisingly little) she began to squirm a bit, made little mewing noises. I unlocked her ankles, spread her legs, and did the dirty deed.

After a trip to the bathroom for a towel, which she seemed to accept gratefully, I fed her some water, replaced the gag, and chained her collar to the bed frame. I pulled the blankets over her, retrieved the other set of bedding from the tub, took a quick shower, and climbed into the spare bed. I had a thought, reached over and called room service for breakfast. I didn't know what she ate, so I ordered a bit of everything.

The knock startled me awake. For a moment I was disoriented. I was not in my own bed and the first thought I had was that I'd gone out and found someone to bed, and in a way I had for in the next instant I remembered Regina, hooded, cuffed, chained next to me.

I pulled on a robe and retrieved the tray. Six a.m. is NOT in my vocabulary, but I wanted to spend as much time as possible with my little captive.

The first thing I did was take her into the bathroom again. I waited while she peed and wiped herself, then I led her over to a table and chairs by the window. I pushed her to her knees, undid the gag. I sat, opened my robe, pulled her head forward. She froze when my cock brushed her lips, but I kept my hand in her hair and after only a moment she opened her mouth.

I can't say it was a bad blowjob, because there's no such thing, and when I came she swallowed, which is always a plus. And she kept sucking until I was hard again, so I pulled her to her feet, bent her over the chair, and took her from behind. I had the urge to take her ass, but I wasn't all that hard. Plenty hard for her dripping pussy, though.

I poured a glass of o.j. and held it up to her nose. She nodded, so I wrapped her hand around the glass, she drank it down in three huge gulps.

"Thank you," she whispered.

I poured some coffee and held it up likewise. She sniffed.

"Milk and some of the blue stuff, please."

I splashed in some milk, tore open a packet of artificial sweetener and dumped it in, stirred it and handed her the cup. I fed her.

She ate everything I offered - a bit of fruit, scrambled egg, sausage, biscuit, a second cup of coffee. After each bite she said thank you.

I ate the omelet, the French toast went to waste. Oh well.

Time passed. We dawdled over a third cup of coffee. She looked great kneeling there, naked. at my feet. I resisted the urge to remove the hood and satisfied myself with a glimpse at her photo ID. I tried to imagine having her for real, to have her collared and kneeling by my side every morning.

"May I go to the bathroom."

Her voice startled me from my reverie. I took the coffee cup, gripped her arm, and raised her to her feet.

"May I have some privacy, please? I don't mind peeing, but ..."

You didn't have to ask, Regina, I was already half way out the door. When I heard the toilet flush I retrieved her.

Half way across the room I stopped her and kissed her. She returned the kiss. Not one of those gaping-mouth kisses, but not a little chaste thing either. The kiss went on long enough with just enough tongue to qualify as a serious kiss. Nice.

Since she had given me such a nice kiss, I took her back into the bathroom and handed her a toothbrush. After brushing her teeth I removed the cuffs and let her take a shower. When she was done I locked the chains on her. The large ring was big enough to fit over her collar, but barely. All five rings were hinged with a half-lap joint and a hole. I slipped small padlocks into the holes. This gave her considerably more latitude while still keeping her securely restrained. I pulled her up onto the bed, made a nest of pillows, settled her back against me, draped my arm over her shoulder. She snuggled. Actually snuggled against me. I helped myself to another kiss.

I flipped open her computer.

I'd like to say it was fascinating. I'd like to, but I can't. Although it WAS interesting. She's a crafter, an artist. Her thing is Renaissance Faires, which is why she was in town treating herself to a couple of days in the hotel before spending the next six weeks camped in her van.

Note to self: Check the van.

But most of the stuff on her computer was rather boring: e-mails to and from suppliers and customers, friends and family. Nothing that I could find had anything to do with her kinky side. Still ...

I managed to find her journal, hidden away down in the middle of some system folders. Nothing all that interesting there, either. The usual litany of joys and sorrows, plans, successes, failures, ranting vents. Not a word about cuffs, gags, hoods, and chains. Apparently this was such an integral part of her that it bore no mention.

I eased out from under her, retrieved a couple of locks and another chain. I locked her wrists to her ankles, locked her collar to the bed frame, wedged the ball back into her mouth and buckled the straps.

I took a quick shower, dressed and headed out the door. I hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob.

Being in security is a wonderful thing. I know all the ins and outs of the camera coverage, knew where the holes were, knew that the second level parking elevator cam was out. It took a bit of finagling, but I managed to get into the garage unseen. It was no big deal if I was, but, again, I wasn't supposed to be there and if Regina was to file a complaint it would be all that harder to prove it was me.

I found her van, searched it, found nothing of interest. Her work bench ran along two sides, a couple of bags served as clothes storage, a portable camp kitchen sat in a corner, a futon filled the middle, combination seat and bed I guess.

I moved my car from employee parking up to guest parking, hid it in a more popular corner of the garage. I took a cab home.

After a long, hot shower, I dressed and grabbed my computer bag, headed out the door.

When I got back to the hotel a couple of hours later, Regina was as I'd left her - naked, chained to the bed. I released her collar from the bed and her wrists from her ankles, took her into the bathroom, waited while she peed. I ordered room service.

I plugged my computer into Regina's. Hers had only a 100 gig hard drive, mine is 600 gig with plenty to spare, I transferred the entire contents of her computer to mine. I hadn't seen anything all that interesting at first glance, but, hey, knowledge is power.

Lunch arrived - a club sandwich and chips. I poured two glasses of wine, one white, one red, held them up for her to sniff.

"Red, please," she said reaching for the glass.

I handed it to her along with a quarter of the sandwich. She ate. It wasn't all that easy getting her mouth open, what with the hood, but she managed, taking small, dainty bites. I fed her the occasional chip, refilled her wine - twice. She thanked me.

The whole thing seemed perfectly normal in a surreal sort of way.

It was getting time for me to get going, so I took Regina to the bathroom one last time, let her brush her teeth - and even that simple act looked great with a naked, chained Regina, tits flopping as she countered the effort of moving the brush in her mouth.

When she was done, I took her back to the bed. I turned her toward the wall and removed the collar and hood. I slipped a sleep mask over her eyes, turned her around and noticed her ears were plugged. I left them plugged.

I settled her on the bed, chained her ankle this time to the bed frame, opened another bottle of wine, placed it in her hand, then set in on the night stand. I did likewise with a glass of water. Lastly I placed a note in her hand:

I will check on you periodically. I'll knock twice, then once. Put the mask on.

I placed the TV remote in her hands, grabbed my computer bag, and left.

It was a long, nervous hour or so. But there were no calls to security and, being security, I would know.

On my first round I checked on her. Yeah, I was worried, but as they say - no guts, no glory, go for it. I went for it.

I knocked twice, then once, paused, then let myself in.

Regina was propped up against the pillows, naked and chained as I'd left her. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I took her. Rolled her onto her knees and took her from behind. She was MUCH more responsive this time, making enough noise that I considered gagging her again.

I jammed a towel between her legs, grabbed the wine glass, drained it, refilled it, drained it, too.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Every two hours I'd make a tour, stop in to check on Regina, sip a little wine, fondle her a bit.

That second night went very much like the first, except that Regina was much more responsive - and I treated her a bit more roughly. She seemed to like it.

Hooded again, collared, gagged and cuffed, she slept with me. Sometime before dawn I felt her fingers on my cock. I fucked her. Kind of took the edge off the morning blowjob, but she managed to get me off. Did a much nicer job than yesterday, fer sure. Swallowed like she was dying of thirst.

Later that morning I left the room. Left Regina hooded, collared, gagged, and cuffed, but not chained to a bed. I placed the key in her hand.

I watched her leave. Watched the green van make its slow circuit through the parking lot, panning the security cam, watched the van disappear down the street.

Two days later I entered the Faire grounds. It wasn't hard to find her. She seemed to occupy a corner of a shop she shared with another woman. I walked by several times, taking pictures as I went. She looked great - part wench, part vamp. A green brocade bodice pushed her ample tits up - way up. It also had a slimming effect on her waist, emphasizing her hips - hips that literally swayed when she walked (I followed her when she took a pee break.).

I even spoke to her.

Her voice was soft, but not breathy, a lower register than typical, as if she was sharing a secret. We were conspirators of sorts and every few seconds she'd smile and her eyes would flash. I bought a ring. A simple silver band with a weaver's knot on it. She had to hammer it a bit to get it to fit, but I didn't mind. Vanilla was not only the scent of her candle, but her own and I drank it in.

And now she was back. Regina Simpson. Bound, naked, sitting on the edge of the bed in room 1214. I fondled the ring on my finger and let myself back into the room.


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