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The Mind Game - Chapter 1

It was already dark when she stepped out of the shower, wrapping her body in a white towel. It was one of the things that marked a good hotel for her. The bathroom towels were always large and thick, and they felt soft on her moist body. These business trips had become something she anticipated with suppressed excitement, especially lately as the warm glow of success and the thrill of professional recognition grew stronger. She was good – and people always wanted to be around her, a trend she had no problem using to her advantage.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she paused to look at her white power skirt-suite hanging in the open wardrobe – the one she packed intentionally for the presentation meeting in the morning. It was one of the choices that always had men looking because it accentuated her long legs, showcased her full breasts and profiled her perfect ass – and she certainly knew how to use that to her advantage. True, she carried one or two extra pounds, but she carried them well. The men she wanted to impress were always so predictable, so easy to distract. She was pretty, stunningly so, and had the outgoing personality to showcase it; so much so that she avoided eye contact when she was in public. Men wanted her, and the subconscious pleading in their eyes was almost pathetic. Publicly it had become distracting, even though she still played with it from time to time. But professionally, it was her game – she played hard and she played well – and she almost always won. She had a little secret ploy she had never told anyone about, but one she believed in religiously. Whenever she went into a corporate sales presentation like the one she had lined up for tomorrow, she would dress to kill, but unbeknown to anyone, she would never wear panties. She was not sure how it worked, whether her nakedness aroused her and made her more sexually aware, or whether there were some pheromones her body emitted that irresistibly drew men around her, or whether the hunter instinct in men subconsciously read her as a female doe in heat. It always made the men in the room end up pressing closer and closer around her, looking for her attention, searching for that eye contact, reaching for even the slightest physical touch, latently begging for some sexual interaction. She was strong in those meetings, she took control. It was her game, and she was ruthless, intentional, mercilessly exploiting men’s primal instinct. And she was stronger still in the bedroom. She smiled at the thought of her ‘tomorrow’ game, knowing that those men would end up swarming around her shamelessly. She wondered how many would end up ravaging their wives that night, but in their minds passionately fucking her, licking her wet pussy, begging for her approval. Or how many were so desperately lame they would jerk off in the shower, picturing her long legs around their necks, or of grabbing her full tits and fucking her hard in her perfect ass. Those familiar thoughts warmed her, and she could not help but notice how they gently excited her body, aroused her, made her wet, ready, yes, even hungry. Was it the financial success she attracted that she relished so much, she wondered, or was it the sexual dominance she so thoroughly enjoyed, intentionally sought – perhaps even desperately needed? Or did it really matter? It was her dirty little secret, and it worked for her.

Looking to watch anything on TV, she flipped through the channels nonchalantly. Somewhere down the hallway a dog was barking, possible at the loud altercation that was happening two or three rooms down. “How do you expect me to believe that you did not fuck her? You were out with her till three on the morning,” the crying woman was shouting. He pathetically mumbled some lame excuse that seemed to calm her down. Looking at the ostentatious décor around her she sighed, money certainly did not buy that couple happiness. She pondered how much easier it is to believe the lie we want to hear than the truth we don’t. Then she smiled at the thought of punishing any guy who ever did that to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise from next door. It was the familiar thud of a headboard repetitively banging against the other side of her wall. The predictably accompanying moans got louder and louder. She closed her eyes as the intensity next door forced itself into her thinking. She could picture it well, young love, fresh bodies, beach tanned, clutching one another in desperate intimacy. She loved watching – wondered if that would excite them or distract them. Was the sexual vocalization from next door a cry for attention, a need to please, or part of a rich, flamboyant personality? The image of the two naked bodies next door flashed into her mind. Her legs spread open and her shaved, engorged pussy wet and slimy with white love juice, begging, reaching. His cock, hard, hungry and demanding, as it thrust in and out like the pistons on a well-lubricated engine. It occurred to her that if that was in her room, he would be the one crying out. She glanced at her trusted black Kink Bag – it housed her toys, kept her secrets and accompanied her wherever she traveled. The cries next door were reaching a crescendo now, unashamed, raw, exciting, loud! Her pussy was about to cum, and so was his dick. She was begging him to not stop, to fuck her harder and harder, and he, apparently, was obliging as she lost all control, screaming her way over the edge into ecstasy. ‘Gee, that was a big one,’ she thought to herself. The thudding on the wall stopped. Quiet, stillness, exhaustion, perhaps a gentle satisfied trembling. She hoped he was holding her tight. Curious, she wondered to herself, if ‘nilla couples who were unashamedly loud would be more open to her kink than quieter couples. It was a little after 10.00 when she closed her door and made her way to the bar. She was aroused, hungry, wet – she needed a little bit of play. The events of the night had awakened her and the Dom inside of her was hungry. She was dressed to kill, and on the prowl for her next victim.

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