0 comments/ 14337 views/ 0 favorites An Afternoon in Paris Ch. 1 By: goodlilgirl It had been a while since I'd been back in that magical, ancient city, which always filled me with a rush of borderline recklessness at the mere thought of being ever s far away from the into which I had settled. Yet as I strolled along the banks f the Seine, down the narrow winding streets, and across the grand boulevards, each corner, every landmark, came to vivid life in my memory. I had made the trip with my two closest girlfriends, a jaunt to celebrate our collective birthdays in the most carefree of fashions. For months, we had giggled over cocktails, imaging the three of us, all very single women with nothing more than time on their hands in the most captivating city on earth. However, unknown to even my two most cherished confidantes in the entire world, this journey bore my most clandestine secret -- a facet of my life that I had revealed to only one man. Tired from our morning of shopping and meandering through the cobblestone streets of the Latin Quarter, we stopped by a tiny, dark restaurant for a couple of drinks and a light lunch. All the while, I was careful to mind my watch. I had a phone call to make, and I knew that one single minute could easily ruin the meticulously laid plans I had for that afternoon -- plans which did not involve my two friends. Just before our salads arrived, I excused myself from the table, saying that I had to make a trip to the ladies' room. My friends didn't speak a word of French, and had no idea what I was saying when I asked the waiter if there was a pay phone nearby. I followed his instructions down a short flight of stairs and found the phone in a corner closet. Clutching the receiver, I held my breath as I waited for the call to ring through to the hotel room, praying that a woman's voice didn't answer. Each ring seemed to last a lifetime, as I stood in the tiny alcove, keeping careful watch so that the girls didn't catch me. A sigh of relief trickled through my trembling lips when I heard his voice. "A fax," he said, and I began to smile. We had worked out our code words long in advance of this chilly April afternoon. "I'll be down in a bit to pick it up." Without further conversation, I placed the receiver in its cradle, then returned to my table. Admittedly, I rushed us through lunch, but time was ticking and every second counted. My suggestion to return to the hotel for a bit to freshen up went over unanimously. As we strolled into our tiny suite, I dashed to the bathroom to prepare. Carefully, I removed my white silk blouse and hung it over the back of the door, followed by the scant of a skirt I was wearing. Systematically, I removed my bra and panties, which were already damp with the illicit thoughts running through my mind, then straightened out the black thigh high stockings. With just as much concern, I slipped back into my skirt and blouse, spritzed myself with my favorite lily perfume, then pulled my coat around me. My friends were yawning and settling themselves in front of the television to watch CNN International, as I announced that I wanted to take a walk to clear my thoughts for a while. Before I headed out of the hotel lobby, I stopped quickly in the gift shop to buy a large bottle of Evian, gulping religiously as I continued along. My pace quick as I moved ever closer to the banks of the river. Crossing from the Right Bank to the Left, my three-inch heels pounded the boards of the old footbridge, and when I stopped for just a second to stare at the Eiffel Tower hovering in the distance high above the city under tufts of white clouds in the mid-afternoon sun, my breath caught in a sudden surge of sheer anticipation. Following the river, I headed ever closer to my destined spot. With each step, I could feel the uncomfortable swell of my bladder, but I knew that it would be quite a long time before I would have the opportunity for release. Crossing through the Champs des Mars, where happy children and playful puppies scurried on the pristine green grass in spite of the signs which warned them to stay away, I squinted in the brightness of the rays which beat down upon my face and saw him standing beneath the north pillar of the Tower, just as we had discussed. In my approach, I lowered my head to stare at the ground. It had been too long since we had last seen each other back in the United States, living too many miles apart from each other. While I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face, trace my finger over the angle of his jaw, I knew much better than to dare even a quick glimpse into his deep blue eyes. Staring at his leather loafers, I could feel his hands slip inside my coat, then pull the side panels away for his inspection. I couldn't fight the smile that curved upon my lips as he leaned ever close and whispered in my ear, "You've dressed for me, and you've been drinking your water. You're such a good girl." Then he took my face in his hands, and lifted my chin. All the while, I could feel his eyes, razor sharp in their gaze, looking at the curve of my breast through the thin silken fabric of my blouse. My nipples were taut, standing straight out as they rubbed against the slip of material, and I knew this pleased him immeasurably. "Why don't we take a quick ride on the carousel?" he suggested, taking my elbow in his gentle fingers. "I know you enjoy it so much." As we turned to walk toward the intensifying echoes of carnival music, I murmured, "Your wife..." The simple tap of his finger over my lips commanded me to say no more. He bought the tickets, then turned to me to trace my nipple with the sharp edge of the tiny paper square. I still didn't dare to look into his eyes, but I could feel the gentle strength of his hands close around my shoulders. With that steady, even stream of his voice, he outlined every move I would make next, and in my submission, I followed each order precisely. Heels scuffing against the concrete, I strolled toward the carousel, three paces in front of him. My legs weakened in the throes of my desire, but he kept a close watch on me, prepared to catch me if I stumbled. The games we shared always brought me to the edge of danger, but I had never known such a warm comfort of safety with any other man. His hands steadied me as I climbed up to the platform. Just feeling his eyes on my back, my waist, my ass, my hips and my thighs intoxicated me. And then I reminded myself that my body was no longer my own, but his to use in whatever fashion pleased him at the moment. Treading up the stairs, I clutched the handrail, but I knew he was close enough behind me to break any chance of a fall. I could feel the gentle spring breeze pass under my skirt, tickling me with the reminder that anyone could easily see that I wore nothing beneath. When I reached the top step, I looked for two empty seats, one behind the other, just as he had told me to do. Before climbing upon the mechanical horse, I took off my coat, and handed it to him. Not so carefully, I hoisted my leg over the tiny saddle. The dichotomous feel of my warm, wet cunt pressed against the cold plastic seat caused me to squirm in dark delight. As I struggled to hold my balance, sliding my swollen clit back and forth with the slight buck of my hips, I felt his lips on my neck. "Good girl," he whispered. Those two simple words, a phrase one might use to praise a pet's good behavior, could manipulate me into nearly any scenario he chose. After all, I wanted nothing more than to please him, and the encouragement that rung through his voice every time he murmured that delicious sentiment in my ear enveloped me into the folds of his mystical spell. Slowly, the tier began to spin, fluttering my skirt up for his view as the ride picked up speed. Just wondering who might be looking, who might be engaging in the same pleasurable stare as my Master, carried me close to the tethering edge of climax. However, he had trained me to ask his permission to cum, and I knew that he would dangle me over the edge of the ravine to my pleasure before granting that privilege. When at last the ride stopped, my breaths were short, and my breasts heaved against the blouse that suddenly felt too tight. Looping his arms around my waist, he lifted me, then helped me to stand. Dutifully, I slipped my arms inside my coat which he held out for me. The light wool covering was a welcome to my shivering body. He continued to hold me steady as I trembled down the stairs. I craved release, but I reveled in the sweet sensation of restraint. Crossing the concourse again was an effort in futility on my behalf, but the curiosity for what else my beloved Master had in store for the afternoon motivated me to carry on. There was quite a lengthy line waiting to board the elevator at the Eiffel Tower, and it was then that he took my chin again, inviting me to look into his eyes. We carried on a conversation as if we were just another pair of lovers touring Paris, without a single mention of the events that preceded the moment or of what scenarios might follow. The elevator was crowded, and I pressed against him in the crush. Through my coat and skirt, I could feel the heavy pressure of his cock, wedging as close to my ass as the folds of material would allow. The buildings beneath passed by my eyes in a blur, as the car inched upward along the steel piers, and when we reached the top, he nudged me forward with a squeeze to my shoulder. Without a thought I strolled toward the edge, and lost myself for a moment in the grassy park below. He stepped behind me, and allowed me a moment to take in the beauty of the old city. He was so close that I could feel the tickle of his breath against my hair. With such delicacy, his hand roamed downward to caress my knee, smoothing over the silky fabric of my stockings. In one quick movement his fingers swooped upward to stroke the bare skin beyond the tight band of the thigh-highs. "You're wet," he murmured. "I can feel it on your stockings." I was numb to his words, concentrating instead on his cool palm which continued to roam between my knee and the top of my thigh. His touch, as always, had a way of drawing me into a hypnotic state, levitating me from the normalcy of the life I lived. And as he continued to caress, teasing me with the brush of fingers against my bare wet lips, I swayed against him. "Please touch me." "Touch you where?" he said with an air of nonchalance as he looked over my head to the scenery below. "Rub my clit, please." His silence left me unnerved with anticipation. "Please," I said again, "rub my clit." Instead he chose to cup my breast with his other hand, maintaining the soft rhythm of his exploration beneath my skirt. I could feel the heat of my own lubrication dampening my legs, as his fingers danced ever close to warmth of my cunt. Catching his hand between my legs would only be cause for punishment, and until he decided that it was time to fulfill my request, I had no choice but to writhe in his arms. Gently and slowly, he took my nipple between his thumb and index finger, increasing the pressure with each second that passed. No one ever understood my body as well as he did, and he knew that the continuous tug against my right breast would throttle me into the folds of delirium. "Harder, please," I whispered. "Please, pull harder. Please." "You're such an exhibitionist," he said against the top of my head. I could feel his lips curve into a sinister smile, as he continued to pull and twist my nipple. "But you're so well trained." "Thank you," I breathed, bucking against his hard cock. I struggled to catch my breath, while the pressure around my nipple tightened. He had taught me so well to hold myself at bay, to near the edge without slipping over, but his grip was quickly obliterating the self-control I had honed in the early stages of our relationship. "Please -- let me cum. Please..." "Cum now," he commanded, his fingers still manipulating my breast, squeezing, pulling, tugging. Collapsing against him, I caught the moan in my throat, and bit down hard into my lip. I felt as if every eye in the crowd was on me, as I gave into the sensation he permitted. My unattended clit was still swollen, but I could feel every muscle within my womb contract with his utterance. All the while, his hand continued to caress, making its circle over my upper leg. "Good girl," he cooed in my ear as the final tremors of orgasm washed over my body, tingling every inch of my flesh from head to toe. "Easy now..." Before I had the chance to blink, he took my hand and led me toward the elevator bank. Dazed, I fell against him, unable to ascertain my surroundings, and allowed him to guide me along. The trust I placed in him surpassed all of my innate instincts. He was my partner in this dangerous dance, and my protector from the ills of the world. Enraptured by his touch, I merely moved my legs as the circle of his arms supported me, and we moved ever further away from the crowds of tourists, leaving behind the fleeting memory of one single moment in time. An Afternoon in Paris Ch. 2 His fingers eased up and down my spine, silently reminding me of the pleasure he had just permitted me. I could still feel his fingers, clamped around my nipple, as he worked me into our own private frenzy in a crowd of strangers. Yet just when I felt a surge of energy return to my deliciously weathered soul as we strolled further away from the Eiffel Tower, he took my hand again, and led me down a narrow block. Homeless people snored in each filthy doorway, and the rancid stench of urine strangled my sense of smell. The shops and tiny cafes, which all bore faded painted signs, were closed at that hour of the day, and left the street void of people. I trembled as I guessed what he might have planned, but I knew better than to question. The shutters hung from threadbare nails, and squeaked in their sway in the light spring breeze. A heavy thicket of smoke caught in my lungs as we stepped inside the tiny hotel's lobby. The dark wooden accents were covered by a layer of dust, coating my body with a film of disgust in my quick survey of the room. My eyes only glossed over the shabby upholstery which barely covered the two chairs adjacent to the front desk, where a fat man sat sucking a cigar between his chapped lips. Timidly, or perhaps in my submission, I stepped back, and dropped my head while he procured the key. All the while, the sensation in my loins began to mount, peaking my lust to do whatever he simply pleased. We climbed the creaky staircase to the second floor, and passed down a long hallway to our room in the corner. I closed my eyes and listened to the click of the key in the lock, and the unsteady opening of the door. Without a word or any sort of acknowledgment, I unbuttoned my blouse, and removed it efficiently before unzipping and stepping out f my skirt. Before him, I stood, waiting again for his careful inspection, and I began to fret. Were my nipples extended to his liking? Had I shaved every last trace of stubble from my cunt? Were my thigh-highs straightened? I lowered myself slowly to my knees, my head bowed precisely at the zipper of his trousers. His cock was so close, but not close enough. Even when he buried himself in the back of my throat, I still wanted more of him. However, my focus began to wane in the midst of my other needs. Pressure filled my lower abdomen, and I shifted suddenly, feeling the weight of my bladder dropping. . Then, he captured my cheeks in his hands. "What does my good girl want?" "I have to go." "Go where?" he pressed. "To the bathroom." "Then crawl to the toilet." Bracing myself on the palms of my hands, I dragged my knees behind me. I could feel the wetness fanning over me -- from my clit to my thighs to my tender asshole. As my knees pressed into the cold tiled floor, I pulled myself along with the strength of my upper arms, thankful that at least I didn't have to walk the short distance to the toilet. "Sit." Clutching the lid, I pushed myself up, then dropped down to the hard seat. Again, he told me to look into his eyes. "May I pee for you?" I asked, running my tongue over my lower lip. "You know what you have to do first," he reminded me. I shifted uncomfortably on the toilet seat. "May I cum for you, then?" "Yes, but you can't touch yourself." I placed my hands on the top of my thighs, and continued to look into his eyes. There was pain now, as I fought so desperately to hold my bursting bladder against the twitch of my building orgasm. I spread my legs to reveal my slick slit, opening up the doors to the center of the body he controlled. My breath hissed through my clenched teeth as I concentrated on the sound of his voice, and I could feel the familiar thudding inside crescendo into a heavy throb. "That's it, that's a good girl," his voice gentled me. "You're getting closer, and I can see how wet you are for me. So well trained..." My clit twitched against his verbal stimulation. I clutched the bands of my thigh-highs, pulling in frustration and aching for this release that only he could offer me. "Cum now," he said, watching me ever so closely as the first shock wave fluttered from my clit into the depths of my cunt and rocked me with jolt after salacious jolt of illicit delight. "That's it, keep it going. Good girl, keep cumming," he coaxed, while I shivered and shook on the toilet before him, wiggling my ass against the hard seat which moved with me. Exhausted from the intensity, I collapsed in my own lap, my nipples pressing against the silk of my stockings. All the while, my bladder remained full, having been conditioned not to leak a single drop in the throes of orgasm. "May I please pee now?" I asked, as I touched my hands to the linoleum floor. "Please, let me pee." "Yes," he said, closing the distance between us. His large hands crowned over my bent head. "You may pee now." A few moments passed as the muscles in my cunt relaxed, and my breath evened along with the patter of my heartbeat. The steady stream poured from me, echoing against the porcelain bowl. "Thank you," I murmured, as he drew my shoulders up, "for allowing me to pee." "You've been such a good girl this afternoon," he said, while he stroked the sheets of toilet paper along my wet slit then back toward my anus. "Now, come. Let's play." Back to my knees I dropped, and followed him into the dilapidated bedroom, which was filled with the stench of stale cigar smoke and erotic odors of someone else's tryst. The bedspread was tattered, torn in various spots, and the single dresser, on which sat an antique television set, bore nicks in its thin wood. Never before had he brought me into such a seedy atmosphere. In fact, I had grown quite accustomed to the marble hotel bathrooms, where he would so lovingly slip enemas into my ass to cleanse me for his rough entry, and king-sized beds covered with fluffy down comforters over which he would lay me for my floggings. However, on that afternoon, he simply wanted me to feel like the filthy slut I had so willingly become. "Where are your toys?" he asked, as he threw open the tall windows. My words were timid, barely audible in the silence of the room. "I was afraid to pack them. Security is so tight at the airport..." "You know you'll have to be punished," he warned me, which I understood as I made the conscious decision to leave my vibrators and plugs and restraints behind. "But not right now." Our intimacy was so deep that he knew a paddling would only pleasure me. Humiliation drove my quest to obey. Ultimately, he would place me in an embarrassingly uncomfortable situation, then remind me with sharp words that were so uncharacteristic of his persona that I had disobeyed. Punishments were few and far between, but I remembered -- and learned -- from each and every regimen. "Haven't I taught you how to prepare?" "Yes, you have taught me well," I stammered. "And I'm very sorry that I've displeased you today." "You're quite lucky that I brought your clamps with me," he said, pulling the long silver chain from his pocket before sitting down in the chair by the window. "Your favorite set." "Thank you for thinking of me," I said. "Here, come to me." Again, I scooted across the dirty floor to kneel before him, and waited patiently while he tugged on my nipples, pulling and stretching them in preparation to tweeze. I could feel the cold metal close around the taut tip, and the tightening lock of pain -- first over the right, then over the left. "Mmmm..." I murmured, as his hand gave one sharp pull of the chain. "Feels so good, doesn't it?" his voice was calm again, while he tugged a second time. "You love this so much, don't you?" "Yes," I breathed, feeling the rush of sensation flow from my bound nipples, down my stomach and into my wetness. "You're ready to cum again, aren't you?" "But not until you allow me," I replied. "Climb into my lap." Across his knees I willingly dropped to feel the soft touch of his hand tracing the curve of my ass. Against my tummy I could feel the strength of his cock, straining through his pants, and wondered again how he could endure such restraint. Round and round his fingers caressed, increasing my agitation. Yet I held ever so still under his cool palm, as it glided from cheek to cheek. His first strike was punctuated with a pull on the nipple clamps, then followed up with a second slap. I couldn't contain my squeals of shock and satisfaction as he continued to whack his steady hand against my needy flesh. From my position, I could clearly see the people on the street below from the second floor window. There were two men staring from across the narrow street, their eyes transfixed on mine as I writhed between the welcome sting of my Master's hand and the promise of his cock beneath me. "You just love to be watched, don't you, my slut?" he taunted, tugging again on my clamped nipples. "It could be me -- it could be those two drunks down there on the street. You don't care who sees you." The heat of the spanking, reddening my ivory cheeks, and the stroke which tore at my nipples awakened that divine arousal that had been dormant since our last meeting. Each crack only enticed me closer to the brink of absolute surrender. As I moved in his lap, I could feel the flow of my juices sopping his thigh, spotting the fine linen with the remnants of my pleasure. "May I cum? Please, let me cum, let me cum," I begged. He ignored me as his hand continued its rhythmic slap to the welts on my now tender ass. "Please, let me cum. Please...please...please." Still, he remained silent, forcing me to curtail my burgeoning release. I didn't dare to move, knowing that even the slightest brush of my clit against his leg would sever the last thread of reserve to which I so desperately clung. The men on the street were still there, holding their crotches in broad daylight as they continued to watch me plead for mercy from my sweet Master. "Cum now," he said, plunging me into the depths of my darkest desires. I squirmed against him, while he heavied his hand against me, pressing my clit ever closer against him. In two quick snaps, he released my nipples, heightening my pleasure as the pain I embraced so dearly surged throughout my breasts. "Good girl...take a deep breath. That's it...breathe for me," he soothed, as he rubbed the skin he had so skillfully welted with his own hand. While I continued to tremble in the aftermath of his sweet assault, I felt him lean down to place his tender lips upon each mark, easing over the burn. "It's been awhile, and you'll be sore," he said. "But I don't think this is the sort of establishment that places a selections of lotions in the bathroom." His words reminded me of how dirty -- how splendidly unrefined -- he wanted me to feel. I was his whore, a mere toy with whom he played while his wife busied herself by running up his credit cards in all of the finest Parisian boutiques. And there was no place that I would have rather been on that sunny afternoon. I rocked against him, and concentrated on the calm of his voice and the delicate touch of his hands. His finger dipped inside me, pressing into my dampness in preparation for his entrance into my ass. Delicately, he worked his way inside, passing through the soft hole, and penetrated deeper until my anal walls surrounded his finger up to the knuckle. "May I have your cock?" I asked, still staring at the floor as I moved back and forth against his finger. "Not without an enema -- which I'm sure you also forgot to bring," he said, then removed his finger abruptly -- his action serving to prove his point rather than to inflict pain in his roughness. "Get dressed." I wanted to cry shamefully as he rushed off to the bathroom to rinse the stain of our clandestine afternoon from his pant leg. Our time together, once again, had ended all too quickly, and I felt I had ruined each priceless second with my insubordination. As I struggled into my skirt, he returned to the room to watch me. Usually, he helped me dress, fastening each button and closing every zipper. However, my poor judgment simply didn't merit his assistance. In fact, I didn't even feel worthy of the tenderness he exuded after the spanking. When at last I had tucked in my skirt with my trembling hands, I dropped to my knees in front of him. "Why all the misbehavior today?" He tilted my chin to look into my eyes. "You know it's so rare that we see each other..." "I know you're unhappy with me right now, and I deserve whatever punishment you deem necessary," I said, my voice steady. "It's just that I'm here with my friends, and I didn't want them to ask questions." "Then your punishment will fall accordingly." With a sharp turn, he moved away from me, and dug his hands into an inside pocket of his black raincoat. My collar and my leash. He had kept them with him while we were apart, and seeing them now in his hands, the leather entwined through those strong fingers that brought me the most pleasurable pain, swelled my eyes with the tears of emotions I had contained for too long. "They're so beautiful." "You missed them, didn't you, precious?" "Yes, I did." "Well, you'll wear them for me so that everyone will know that you're mine." Carefully, he snapped the collar into place, and patted me on the head before attaching the leash. "You'll crawl out of this hotel, and out the front door. Then, you may stand, but I will not remove the leash. You'll prove to me that you're not embarrassed by the activities you perform for me. Understand?" With a nervous nod, I said, "Yes, I understand." "And by the way," he said as I crawled in his lead toward the door, "I'm here -- in Paris -- alone." An Afternoon in Paris Ch. 3 I could feel the curious eyes of every person on the street upon me, as he led me out the door by my leash. The light breeze carried the heady scent of sex I wore with every step I made. The two nameless voyeurs, my Master pointed out, were still standing across the street, as if they knew we would only be a short while in the hotel. They had waited just to see me, and had perhaps even considered propositioning for the chance to share me. "You know," he said, stopping suddenly in the middle of the block, "it's rather impolite for you to just walk away after teasing them so relentlessly." Following the tug of the long leather strap, I crossed the street behind him. No words were spoken in his negotiation. I simply carried on, down the short block into a dark alley, and dropped to my knees. I reached out to unzip the first man. With my head bowed in my submission, I had no idea what he looked like, aside from the blurry view I caught of them during my spanking. Clamping my lips over the huge head of his cock, I sucked him deep into my mouth, pulling him toward the back of my throat with my lips and tongue. A pair of hands closed around my head, guiding me along the thick, heated rod, and I could only guess by the force of the pressure against my scalp that it wasn't my Master's fingers that were entwined in my tosseled hair. Balls pressed against my chin, the stranger pumped his cock, increasing his speed with each thrust. I could feel the crush of his pubic hair against my face, suffocating me as I continued to suck. As I clutched the man's knees to support myself and draw him as deeply as I could into my throat, my back arched, then stiffened, succombing to the wave of ecstasy that began its crest through my cunt. Just knowing that my Master kept a very close eye on every movement I made pleasured me into a state of blinding bliss. Without warning, I felt a hot rush spill down my throat, coating me with the delicious taste of his cum. As his pace slowed and his arousal softened in his release, I slowly eased my lips away to lick away the last drops of his load. Before I had the chance to catch my breath, the second man rammed his short phallus between my open lips. His rhythm was much more intense, and he pounded fiercly, prodding my mouth with quick, awkward jabs. As my head bobbed ever quicker to keep up with his pace, I felt a finger pressing tightly against my clit. Sucking ever so earnestly, I waited for the second man to erupt. My mouth moved in time with my hips, grinding against the finger that stroked me. Nipples pressed against the rough denim-covered thighs, I thought I might collapse from the over-stimulation of the entire afternoon. Wave after wave of electric shock streamed through my cunt, and I guzzled the salty liquid from the head of his cock like a woman who had been stranded in the dessert for a month. Then, just as quickly as he came, he drew back from my mouth and zipped his pants. I could hear the echo of their footsteps grow distant, while I dropped to the cold concrete. The tremors of my orgasm still continued to rattle, as I felt his gentle hands under my arms, lifting me to stand against him. Still, he didn't say a word. He simply led me down the alley and back to the street as if nothing had happened. Strolling ever so slowly, he swung my leash to and fro, accentuating my role in his life to every person who crossed our path. I had no idea where he planned to take me next. For all I knew, he had planned to drop me at my hotel, forcing me to return to my room wearing the details of our time together. He turned sharply, taking me with him, and placed my hand on the railing which lined the stairs into the metro station. Mindful of the heels I wore, he warned me to watch my steps, as I sluggishly moved along behind him. Closing my fingers around the entry ticket, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. He permitted me to look up, but not into his eyes, as I passed through the turnstile, then released my hand and continued on, swaying the leather strip attached to my collar. While the train pulled into the station, he assured me that we had to transfer only once, then stood behind me to brace my weary frame as I climbed into the car. As I settled into a seat near the window, I could sense once again that all eyes were on me. After a short ride of two stops, he squeezed my shoulder, signaling me to stand. As he sauntered through the maze of tunnels, making each turn with a sense of direction comprable to a native Parisian, I clomped along clumsily, too tired to return to my consideration for the rest of the afternoon. My clit was still swollen, waiting for his touch, and my breasts ached to feel the clench of his pinch again. When at last we found the appropirate platform, he took my head in his hands. "We're almost there." The second ride was a lengthy one, and drowsiness began to consume me. I placed my head against the cold window, hoping the chill would keep me awake. Behind me I could hear the whispers of a group of teenagers who were discussing my leash and the apparent string of cum that had dried in my hair. Living in Paris during my junior year of college taught me all sorts of sordid phrases, and I could understand every descriptive word that colored their conversation of my appearance. He recounted each stare -- every bawdy comment and sinister snicker -- as he walked me out of the station, reminding me again of my willfull disregard for his orders. I would never, I promised, neglect to bring my toys again, even if it meant a lenghty conversation with airport security. I would simply explain that my Master insisted I bring my various items of sexual paraphenalia with me, and face whatever consequences befell me. When we reached the top step, I could clearly see the Arc de Triomphe, and I knew without question that he planned to walk me down the Champs Elysees, which was perhaps the most densely crowded boulevards in Paris. On that particular spring afternoon, it seemed as if half of the population of the world had decided to walk that very street. I lost count of the flashes that seemed to illuminate from every corner, and I knew without doubt that someone -- from somewhere -- had likely caught my image, albeit unintentionally, on film. However, I simply lost the concern to care. My feet were hurting, nearing numbness in the three-inch heels, and my ass was so sore that the swoop of my skirt heightened my discomfort. Covered in cum, I continued along, thankful that he allowed me to bow my head from the countless watchful eyes and lustful stares. Yet I trudged on, following the leash for several blocks. My sense of the surroundings I knew so well dissipated in the spring air. All the while, he marked our path, telling me which landmarks we had passed. I noted that his pace seemed to slacken when we walked in front of the American Embassy. I could only imagine the thoughts that might have been rolling through the minds of my fellow countrymen as they passed through the doors, and for a moment I wondered if that was perhaps where he planned to take me. However, he tugged me along, and as we crossed Place de la Concord, my feet dragged against the stones that filled the vast, old square. More people. More cameras. The spotlight was totally on me -- or at least so I thought in my weakening state. Then, he stopped again in front of the elegant facade of what appeared to have once been a palace, and said, "You may lift your head now." As we stepped into the exquisite marble lobby, which was crowded with women donning fine Chanel suits and hordes of coifed businessmen from around the world, he whispered in my ear, "Good girl." I had never been so acutely aware of my surroundings, as I scuffed over the polished floors, commanding the looks of repulsion from piercing eyes. My nipples were extended, poking vividly through the sheer white blouse. The dew of my desire continued to gush beneath my skirt, and the stench from my cunt blatantly revealed to everyone in the lobby how I'd spent the day. In the empty elevator, he looked into my eyes. "Have you learned your lesson?" "Yes, I have." "Good. Now you'll call your friends, and tell them that they'll have dinner without you this evening -- that you met up with a captivating man in your exploration of the city today." He didn't release my leash until we stopped in front of the door to his room, and once inside. The contrast of the fine eighteenth century furnishings to my sordid state comforted me. Yet my guilt in my disobedience still continued to weigh heavily upon my soul. I didn't deserve to be here now -- to revel in such luxury with such a caring man. I began to think about the afternoon, with scene after scene rolling vividly though my mind. I envisioned what I might have looked like, standing high above the city and convulsing with orgasm as he gripped my nipple in his arousing clutch. Then I remembered the men. It was almost as if I had chosen them myself, having so brazenly performed for them from the open window of that sordid hotel. I could still feel their cocks in my mouth, could still taste the cum upon my lips. Then, I felt the appeasing touch of hands upon me, assuaging my guilt and assuring me that my misbehavior -- while not forgotten -- was just another distant memory of the afternoon. Methodically, his fingers worked over each button of my blouse. After he slipped the garment frm my shoulders, I turned instinctively to allow him access to the zipper of my skirt. Looping my waist with his arm, he helped me into the bedroom, turned down the comforter and eased me down to the sheets. He stroked my hair, telling me to rest, then left the room quietly. Only moments had passed before he returned, but it seemed as if he had been gone for hours. "Just relax," he murmured, rubbing a handful of lotion into the welts on my ass. "That's a good girl. I'll wake you in time to dress for dinner, but for now, go to sleep." Beneath his hands, which sothed away the sting of his spanking, I fell into deep, peaceful slumber, knowing that I would awaken in his bed.