The Commission Ch. 07

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**AUTHORS NOTE: This is a work of fiction featuring characters all over the age of 18.**

I can’t remember the last time I was this excited.

I almost feel like a kid again, bright and buzzing with anticipation as a birthday approaches. Dizzy at the promise of one special day, of the joyful frenzy it could bring.

Exhilarated by your promise of a trip.

You and me, together. As something new.

As us.

I fidget with my overnight bag, drumming my nails against the counter. I nervously fix my hair, tucking it behind my ear then letting it fall loose again. Things will be different now.

You showed me your cards, and I accepted them.

I accept you. The good, the bad, the completely fucking terrible.

I hear a car pull into the driveway and glance out the window to make sure it’s yours. It is. I lock the front door behind me, heart racing, my boots crunching through the blanket of snow stretched between us.

“I would have come to your door,” you smile as I set down my bag and buckle my seatbelt.

“I know, I just heard your car and figured I wouldn’t make you walk. It’s nice and toasty in here.” I spread my hands in front of the vents, appreciating the warmth flowing from them. And beneath me.

“Did you turn on the seat heater for me?” I ask, looking at you in mild surprise.

“Yes. Is that ok?”

“Of course it is, thank you,” I lightly touch your arm to let you know I’m appreciative, and I actually am. It was such a tiny gesture, but a sweet one.

The hotel is just under three hours from my apartment. As we merge onto the highway I wonder whether you’ll want to talk more, or maybe listen to music. Podcasts. NPR? I could see you being an NPR guy.

Maybe we’ll sit in comfortable silence instead, watching the rolling white hills guide us from our city to another.

We end up doing a little of each. Radio, the quiet. A game where you share one low stakes truth about your life, and I spill one in return. Favorite foods, films. Best childhood memory.

I want to know everything about you, it’s a need I’ve learned over the years to restrain. The desire to simply absorb another person all at once, to consume their whole essence through physical contact, questions, watching quietly. Taking them in one thrust at a time.

I burn out too quickly that way, though, and I don’t want to burn out on you.

Then again, it’s hard to imagine how anyone could.

“Oh,” I gasp when we pull up to our hotel. It’s beautiful. I suddenly feel a little self conscious about my overnight bag, wishing I’d packed something more stylish, but I can’t wait to see our room. Besides, there’s a good chance you brought some of the clothes Sam had purchased for me anyways.

The entrance is gorgeous, marble floors and soft, thick rugs. Velvet sofas and statues. Thriving green vines tumble down from the ceiling and walls. A concierge offers us each a glass of champagne and I notice that there’s a dog in the lobby too. A hotel dog! I reach down to pet him, scratching lovingly behind his ears.

“That’s a good boy,” I laugh as he flops over.

“Come on, Claire,” you lure me from my new friend, amused. “Let’s go see our room, this guy will have to wait for you here.”

I give the dog one last tousle and follow you to the elevators.

You kiss me the second the doors shut, pushing me hard against a mirrored wall, your hand reaching for my breasts over my shirt. Opening as many of my buttons as you can before we reach our level.

The elevator suddenly chimes and opens on the wrong floor, and an older couple peeks in before realizing they wanted the one going down. I smile at them briefly, hair astray, the thin lace cups of my bra peeking from my mostly undone shirt. I expect them to look aghast, disapproving, but the elderly woman just smiles and winks. I squeeze your hand, trying so hard not to laugh as the doors slowly shut again.

They open once more on the correct floor, and you grab our bags, leading me to our room.

Oh god, our room.

I sigh when you open the door, dropping my purse unceremoniously as I appreciate every furnishing and light fixture. Each bathroom amenity. The massive bed, just for us. I kick off my shoes and fall back on top of it.

“This hotel, Rowan,” I exhale. “It’s incredible.”

I feel like a fresh, bright-eyed celebrity, overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of our overnight digs. Far too inexperienced with such posh accommodations to ever seem spoiled or jaded. I’m simply amazed that I’m here.

You sit on the bed beside me and I roll onto my stomach, kissing your knee and your thigh over your pants, running my hand along them until I feel your cock pushing up to greet me.

“Mmm,” I bite my lip. “There it is.”

I start to unzip you but you grab my hand gently, stopping me.

“We don’t have time for that just yet, I have a couple of surprises for you first.”

“Surprises?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you confess, your voice tinged with pride. “I booked you a massage. ataşehir escort I figured you could probably use one after the week you’ve had.”

A massage? God, that sounds good. My skin tingles at the thought of it. I wish you’d let me show you how appreciative I am instead of making me wait.

“But first,” you reach down into your suitcase, pulling out a small bag with black tissue paper. “I got you this.”

You hand me the bag and I accept it gingerly. It’s slightly heavier than I imagined given it’s diminutive measurements. My fingertips search beneath the delicate paper, wrapping around something firm and smooth. I pull the object out and hold it up in front of me.

It’s some sort of ornament, a matte black bulb with a flat gemstone at its end.

“What is it?” I ask, turning it in my hand, admiring its shape and shimmer.

“It’s a plug,” you respond, watching me curiously.

“A plug? For what?”

“For your ass, Claire. You’ve seriously never seen a plug before?”

I immediately drop the toy like metal left on a hot stove. You grab it before it rolls off the bed, cracking up.

“What the fuck?” I ask, now laughing too. “Why did you buy me a plug, weirdo? Flowers were all sold out?”

“I think you’ll really enjoy it,” you grin, handing the little bulb back to me. “You said you liked feeling me in there, and this is smaller so it shouldn’t hurt.

“Also,” you lower your voice, leaning in, “you can wear it wherever I want you to wear it, and nobody will even know it’s in there. It will be our secret. Something fun and dirty, right up your alley.”

I smile at the pun, wondering whether it was intentional. Probably.

“How do I put it in?” I ask you, mulling it over. There is something kind of sexy about it, I have to admit. The thought of my body carrying a secret for you.

“Oh, you don’t. That pleasure is definitely going to be mine.”

You reach your hand down to my skirt, slowly lifting it until you can see the bottom of my cheeks through my tights. Raising it over my ass entirely. You pull at the elastic band around my waist, sliding the sheer stockings and panties down over the smooth, curved flesh, leaving my ass completely exposed.

You reach back down to your bag, pulling out a small tube of lube.

“Raise your hips,” you instruct me.

Alright, I guess this is happening now.

I nervously lift my pelvis from the soft comforter. This was certainly not what I expected as the start of our weekend itinerary, but I want you to be proud of me.

And if I’m being honest, I kind of want to know how it feels.

You dab a small amount of lube onto your finger and spread me apart. I’m embarrassed for you to be looking at me this closely, in daylight, but I know you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want to. Some part of you must be enjoying it.

I can guess which.

You tenderly probe my opening with your slick, wet finger and I tense, reflexively tightening when you try to enter. You ask if it feels ok, telling me to let you know whether anything hurts, if I’m too sore from last night. You let me know that we can stop if I want to.

But I don’t want to stop.

I hold my breath when I feel the gently sloped end pressed against me, exhaling slowly and softly, trying to keep still as you carefully slide the plug into my body. I try to relax, to welcome it inside of me. I still feel a little bruised from before, but I don’t mind. An ache has never been much of a deterrent for me.

Sometimes I like the reminder.

“Oh, wow. Ok,” I gasp as I close back around the narrow handle. Feeling the fullness of the round toy inside of me. You test it lightly, wiggling it, and I giggle again.

“So, what do you think?” You ask, sliding my panties and tights back up over my hips.

I roll back over and sit up.

Oh boy. You were right, this could be fun.

I walk across the room, squeezing my legs together, my steps small and hesitant. I’m afraid I’ll somehow dislodge the little ornament from its new home. I would be mortified if that happened.

“It’s not going to fall out,” you chuckle. “Seriously, walk like a normal human being, not like whatever you’re doing. Like some weird bird. What the hell even is that?”

“Ok, ok!” If I laugh any harder I might cry. This is such a bizarre experience. I do a small lap around the room, and sure enough, the plug remains lovingly tucked inside of my ass, tickling me slightly with each step.

“Thank you Rowan,” I slide onto your lap, wrapping my arms around you and kissing your mouth. “I love it.”

“Well, then you’re certainly easy to please,” you whisper, brushing hair away from my face. “Good to know.”

I kiss you again as you reach down to my ass, squeezing a firm cheek while your tongue searches mine. You smack me lightly, jiggling the plug. I moan into your mouth. I want to fuck.

God, I need to fuck.

You grab me by my shoulders instead, gently pushing me away.

“Massage, ataşehir escort bayan Claire. If you’re late they will cancel.”

“Ugh,” I grunt. Disappointed for the first time in my life by the thought of some impending pampering. “Let me take out the plug first.”

“Oh, no way,” you grin. “The plug stays. Nobody is going to see it, I promise.”


I undress nervously, hurriedly, in the spa locker room. I’ve never been particularly insecure about my body except in spaces like this. Some residual shame carried from puberty into adulthood, perhaps. I left my panties on beneath the fluffy robe, so it’s not like anyone would have been able to see the plug either way. Despite my anxiety, you were right.

No one can tell it’s there.

She’s waiting for me outside of the locker room when I close the door.

“Hi, Claire, my name is Aimee. I’ll be your masseuse today,” she smiles, giving me a glimpse of her brilliant, white teeth.

Her hair is long, auburn. It almost looks brown until the light catches her and sets it aflame, red and gold sparks shimmering, glittering from the top of her head to the end of her ponytail.

And so many freckles. Dear lord. The girl is covered.

You can tell just by looking at her, despite the high neckline of her shirt. They’re scattered over her nose and cheeks, her forehead. Across her collarbone and down her long, thin arms. It’s as though some great cosmic being dipped a brush in paint then gently flicked it across her body, sprinkling her skin with its own library of constellations.

I’m completely mesmerized.

I wonder whether they cover her chest or if they slowly dissipate, revealing small, pale breasts instead. Were her nipples as red as her lips, or were they lighter, more of a tan or pink? And the hair between her legs…

…fuck. We should have had sex before you sent me down here. You can’t leave me in a perpetual state of arousal like this, it isn’t fair to anyone. Certainly not to this girl.

I remember that she also massages men all day and I instantly feel guiltier, I’m sure she deals with enough eye-fucking and erections as is. She must be the same age as me, but I suddenly feel protective of her, and grateful she can’t see my more inappropriate curiosities the way that she could with a man. That my interest is hidden.

I smile and say hello back, feeling like an idiot. Embarrassed by the waterfall of thoughts constantly cascading from my brain down between my legs. Wishing there was a way to turn them off. When Aimee faces away again, I bite down on my lip and pinch the fleshiest part of my arm. Shit. OUCH. Maybe that distraction will do it.

She guides me to our room and asks me to remove my robe and lay face down on the bed while she waits outside. I strip down immediately when the door shuts, snuggling beneath the sheets on the heated massage bed. God, this is going to feel incredible. I can already tell.

There’s a soft, polite knock on the door as Aimee asks if I’m ready. I tell her to come in. She asks a few questions first, checking to see whether I have any injuries or especially sore muscles that need some extra attention. I am thankful she can’t see my smile as I hit refresh on the invisible inventory of pain and pleasure my body has sustained during the past week, the hidden plug a reminder of both.

“Nope, nothing unusual,” I answer from the opening of the headrest.

She starts with my arms and my back, skillfully kneading and rubbing my flesh with oils, working the aching muscles beneath it until they’re soothed and calm again. Her scent floats around me, subtle notes of vanilla and bergamot. Something comforting with a hint of something exotic.

I’ve never felt so docile before, I could practically purr. For someone as thin as she is, her fingers are surprisingly deft and strong.

She covers my back again and lifts the sheet over my legs, leaving the fold just below my ass. I shift slightly on the bed, feeling self-conscious. I wish she’d left me a little more coverage, but the fear melts away as soon as she starts massaging my calves, manipulating and stroking my thighs. I briefly tense as she goes higher, rubbing the back of my smooth legs just below my cheeks. I’ve never had a masseuse work this far up before.

She doesn’t stop. She lifts the blanket over the very bottom of my panties and I hold my breath, my face flushed as she grips my ass cheeks, fingers pressing into the muscle beneath, circling and pulling. The plug moves whenever she does it. Can she see the handle through the lace of my underwear?

God I hope not. I’m terrified.

Aimee continues working from the sides inward, and I know I should say something, that I should ask her to stop, but it feels too good. My entire body was so sore, there isn’t an inch of me that couldn’t use this massage. I might as well let her take the extra one or two.

Her thumbnail suddenly taps against the gemstone.


My face is burning, escort ataşehir I don’t know what to do. Do I say something? Maybe she didn’t notice.

If she realizes what happened she doesn’t comment, just continues her work.

Her nail accidentally taps it again. There’s zero chance she didn’t feel or hear it this time.

I’m too distracted to even enjoy the shifts in pressure. Why the hell did you make me wear this goddamn thing, Rowan? I’m so furious with you right now, I could slap you again.

Eventually she stops, lowering the blanket back over my legs. Thank god.

“If you’d like to turn around, I can get your front,” Aimee says softly.

I turn beneath the blanket, praying she can’t see how red my face is, or that she’ll mistake it as an inevitable effect of my positioning. Nothing more.

She starts with my shoulders, and I gradually begin to relax again as she works her way down my arms. Pressing into my forearms and stretching my fingers between hers, thumbs pushed against my palms.

It feels so good that I sigh.

She returns to my shoulders, massaging the muscles of my chest, right below my clavicle. The blanket starts shifting again so I keep lightly tugging it higher. It’s difficult whenever she moves me, I don’t have much to hold it up with in this state, flat on my back. I try to pin it to my sides beneath my arms, but she’s working so vigorously that my attempts are useless.

Oh fuck it, I think. I finally relent, allowing the blanket to slide down my skin.

“Those are cute,” she whispers, my breasts now fully exposed. She reaches down to cup them, her fingers grazing my undeniably erect nipples.

I blush, then laugh. Hands down the most inappropriate massage I’ve ever had. What the hell is even happening?

“I’m sorry,” I announce, giggling. “This is just so weird. Is this some kind of prank? A hidden-camera porno?”

“Rowan requested that you be taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” I ask her, confused.

Aimee smiles, pulling the blanket lower, tugging on the waistband of my underwear. “Taken care of,” she repeats. “You know. Like, completely.”

“Oh my god,” I blurt, shocked. I’d obviously heard of massage parlors before but this is some sort of luxury Marriott. Maybe a Hilton? I have no idea which, but that’s semi-besides the point.

“You can request something like that?” I prop myself up on my elbows, no longer even concerned with my naked breasts. Just stunned.

“Well,” she laughs, “a VERY select clientele can. It’s up to the masseuse to accept though.”

Ah, of course they can. Money.

“I had no idea orgasms were an Amex perk,” I grin, shaking my head.

“You’ve clearly never owned the right card,” she laughs, moving towards the end of the bed. Tickling my foot. “But it’s really all about making someone feel good. That and the cash tips.”

Aimee smiles, rubbing her fingers together. Yep. Money.

“Wait,” my eyes widen. “Have you and Rowan…?”

She stops me, shaking her head. “No, no. But he sends me clients once in a while, colleagues of his. Like I said though, in the end it’s up to me.”

That makes me feel a little bit better, that Aimee gets the final say.

“So you’re not doing anything you don’t want to do?” I ask her, suddenly shy again.

“Oh, hon,” she smiles coyly, pulling the blanket all the way off of the bed. Her fingers moving between my legs, rubbing my aroused cunt through my panties as I lie back, trembling. “I never do anything I don’t want to do.

“Plus,” she grins, “you’re pretty hot.”

“You are too,” I confess, blushing. “So I’d have to be kind of crazy to say no, huh?”

Aimee slips her long fingers into my panties, sliding them along the wet crease up to my clit, then back down into my opening. Plunging one inside of me.

“Fucking insane,” she whispers.

I tilt my head to the side and close my eyes, moaning quietly as she pulls out her finger again and begins nimbly stimulating my clit. Jesus, this girl knows what to do.

She’s caressing the small button for a bit, my hips moving rhythmically with her hand, when she suddenly thrusts two of her fingers inside me again. I gasp as she moves in and out, fucking me with them, her knuckles pushing against the plug each time she rubs inside me. I can barely handle the sensation of being simultaneously filled like this, how much I love it.

I had no idea it could be this arousing. This fucking sexy. How quickly the pressure in both holes would get me close. I lift my hand to my mouth, covering it as I pant. Trying to keep quiet, unsure of how much more I can take.

She pulls my panties aside with her other hand and bends down, flicking her tongue against my clit. Drawing the tip up and down it, fluttering her tongue as she lightly sucks. Her fingers still pumping inside me.

“Oh god,” I moan.

There’s no way I can hold back now. I’m fucking gone.

I bite down on my thumb as I cum, contracting around her and the plug. Wanting to cry out. To grab a fistful of her stunning, fiery hair as my pussy pulsates around her fingers, her tongue lapping at my soaked, pink flesh.

“Aimee,” I gasp. My heart pounding. My eyes opening slowly as I struggle to regain my composure. “You’re amazing,” I laugh. Shocked by how instinctively she read my body, how easily she drew the electricity from its core.

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