Tales From the Hotel Bentmoore The Complete Collection

By Shelby Cross

The Hotel Bentmoore. An elegant, lavish hotel, catering to those who seek an escape from the rigors of conventional life. Beneath the facade of this opulent dream world, another world awaits: that of the erotic, the lascivious, and the sadistic.

The Hotel Bentmoore. Where the decadence, opulence and charm of the rooms above hide the maze of dungeon rooms below...where the cries of hedonistic pleasure coalesce with the screams of unspeakable perversion, until one can no longer tell the difference.

The Hotel Bentmoore. Where anonymity, secrecy, and above all else, ultimate carnal pleasure, are guaranteed.

Tales from the Hotel Bentmoore: The Complete Series includes all four stories from Tales of the Hotel Bentmoore, including Alice, Deborah, Mark and Audra, and Elizabeth.

Story #1: Alice has returned to the Hotel Bentmoore for her own private celebration. She plans on some raunchy merriment with her long-time host, Mr. Sinclaire. Little does she know, Mr. Sinclaire has a new toy he’s been waiting to try, designed to keep the most willful and disobedient of women in line...and he can think of no other woman he’d like to try it out on more than Alice.

Story #2: Deborah has been a regular guest of Mr. Dean for years. She craves his steady, strict hand and calm, measured control. But now, Deborah wants to try something new, something that stretches beyond all her boundaries, and she will need the full force of Mr. Dean’s dominating will if she is to succeed.

Story #3: Mark and Audra, a young married couple, meet with Mr. Dean for some help moving past Audra’s scandalous affair. Mr. Dean realizes if Audra’s punishment is to be effective, it must be severe, the likes of which Audra could never have imagined. But Mr. Dean must also teach the couple Audra’s predilections are nothing to be ashamed of, and to do that, he will have to call in some help: a fellow hostess of the Hotel Bentmoore who has her own unique, feminine charms.

Story #4: Elizabeth, a young, wealthy, and beautiful brat, arrives to the Hotel Bentmoore in dire need of some strict discipline. To that end, her stepmother delivers her into the safe and knowing hands of her host, Mr. Shern. Mr. Shern knows exactly how to handle an impudent girl like Elizabeth: with a strict list of rules, and a painful set of consequences for her actions. It is one weekend Elizabeth will never forget.

As a collection, these four erotic stories become a full-length novel, full of hard-core BDSM and steamy sex scenes.
Warning: Contains graphic content, including spanking, caning, figging, anal play, anal sex, F/F scene, M/M/F scene, and of course, lots and lots of heavy BDSM.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shelby Cross
• Release date: Dec 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301200641

Book preview

Tales from the Hotel Bentmoore

by Shelby Cross

Copyright March 2011 by Shelby Cross. All rights reserved.

First Smashwords Edition: February 2012.

Cover and Interior: Streetlight Graphics.

ISBN-13: 978-1469936758

ISBN-10: 1469936755

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DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Alice

Deborah

Mark and Audra

Elizabeth

Also by Shelby Cross

Dedication

To my Husband.

Alice

Alice Barr was the model high-powered business woman you might see walking down a busy New York street: sophisticated, well dressed, and in a great hurry to be somewhere else. She was an executive working in a well known Wall Street company, and her salary reflected her station. Respected for her job title as well as her generosity and philanthropic work, she drifted within the circles of high society, the creme of New York’s crop.

She was a modern woman, opinionated, sure of herself. But she had one dark secret, one that would mortify her if it ever got out: Alice needed to be disciplined. She craved the strong hand of a dominant male on her soft derriere, and when she went too long without it, her mood would eventually deteriorate, her temper becoming alarmingly short, and her patience disappearing completely. It was like she became a different woman.

She needed to be controlled, tamed and broken like a wild and exotic animal. But she could not allow just anyone to treat her in such a way; she could not let her secret get out. She was too afraid it would stain her reputation, make her a figure of derision.

And so, she became a frequent visitor to the Hotel Bentmoore.

On this particular trip to the Hotel Bentmoore, Alice had made arrangements for a short visit, just a two night stay, to celebrate landing an account that could shoot her career into the highest stratosphere of her company, maybe even make her a board member. It was what she had been striving for, a culmination of years of hard work, and she couldn’t imagine a better place to celebrate.

It wasn’t long before her liaison, Mr. Brooks, was knocking on the door to her suite. No matter for many days Alice had scheduled her stay at the hotel, she always tried to get the suite: it was roomier, had a large hot tub, and the windows had a wonderful view of the mountains beyond. And if she could afford it, why should she not have the best?

Yes?

Mr. Sinclaire welcomes you back, ma’am, and would like to confirm ten o’clock tonight.

Tell Mr. Sinclaire thank you, and ten o’clock is fine.

Thank you, ma’am.

Mr. Brooks quickly left by the elevator, and Alice shut the door. Mr. Brooks had been the acting liaison between her and Mr. Sinclaire for a long time now, yet Alice still felt the thrill every time Mr. Brooks would seek her out to confirm her scheduled activity with her host.

Alice ate her meal in the hotel dining room, comfortable in her own company, and took her time enjoying the food. Then, she returned to her suite, and carefully prepared for the night ahead, redoing her hair and donning the outfit she had brought with her for just this occasion.

At ten o’clock, Mr. Brooks returned.

I need another few minutes, Alice called out from behind the door.

Very well, ma’am, Mr. Brooks answered back.

Alice waited just inside the door, not going very far. In fact, she did nothing but watch the clock, fidgeting for a good ten minutes. When she decided it had been long enough, she opened the door, saw her liaison waiting just outside, and walked through.

Mr. Brooks made no mention of her tardiness; it was not up to him to care one way or the other if she was late for her activity. He also did not notice her attire, or at least, pretended not to. Her outfit was hardly something she would wear on the streets of New York, or anywhere else in public, for that matter. But Mr. Brooks simply walked ahead. Alice fell a good few steps behind.

This way, ma’am, he said, keeping his voice, and his expression, completely neutral. Alice followed dutifully, but silently, making no noise, not even from her high stiletto heels. The carpet muffled the sounds of her footsteps.

Soon, Mr. Brooks had led her down the elevator and across the hallway that brought her to the activity room. He opened the door and gestured her through. Alice gave her liaison a small smile, then walked on, and had the satisfaction of hearing Mr. Brooks lock the door behind her.

The room was quite familiar to her now, but she looked around anyway, searching for signs of any changes, and smiled when she saw none. She liked to have the same room, in the same layout; the familiarity was comforting.

The room was rather large, with pale lavender walls and a marble floor, polished to a high shine. In the far corner was the bed, a large four-poster with silk sheets that matched the walls, looking luxurious and magnificent. It was flanked by two single-drawer side tables, containing a variety of smaller sex toys.

A high wooden saddle chair sat off to the side of the room, well padded and screwed into the floor. Next to it was the only other piece of furniture in the room: a wide, double-doored mahogany wardrobe, dark and elegant. Alice knew for a fact that the wardrobe did not contain any clothes, save for a robe or two.

The room itself would probably not raise any particular suspicions to the average passerby, unless one took a good look around, and began to notice all the heavy metal hooks bolted into the walls, floor, and ceiling. One devilish hook even poked out from the door behind her.

Mr. Sinclaire was waiting for her, as usual. He was by the bed, facing the door, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He wore a short black robe, belted at the waist, showing the wispy blond hairs that matted his broad chest. Alice’s eyes grazed his long, muscular legs, clean lines, and slightly tanned skin. The hairs on his legs were a shade lighter than the rest of him, bleached from hours spent outside wearing shorts, and they looked whisper soft.

Alice knew his hands were large, and his fingers long and knuckled; but right now, she couldn’t see them. Mr. Sinclaire’s arms were crossed: he looked peeved.

You’re late again, he said sternly.

I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to be. She tried to hide the smile tugging at her lips. He hated it when she arrived late, which was precisely why she did so.

Alice, what am I to do with you? You try my patience, he sighed, straightening up from the wall. Come here.

Alice dutifully obeyed, walking straight and erect toward her host, looking at him innocently. He stopped her a few feet away.

And what exactly are you wearing this evening? His brows furrowed.

Do you like it? It fits me well, don’t you think?

She had donned a crisply ironed white shirt, collared and short sleeved. But it was buttoned up only until the rise of her breasts, leaving the swells of her cleavage quite prominent. The shirt was short, ending barely at the waist; if she raised her arms at all, the narrow curve of her midriff would immediately be exposed. Her skirt, navy blue and pleated, might have been part of a school girl’s uniform, except that it was also indecently short, falling just below the pert swells of her ass. The high heeled stiletto shoes and thin, matching blue tie around her neck completed the ensemble. She looked like a saucy, impertinent school girl.

How it fits you is irrelevant. That outfit is hardly something a woman of your stature should be wearing, Mr. Sinclaire said. His eyes were smoldering under his heavy blond brows. Alice didn’t know if it was anger or lust, but at the moment, she didn’t much care: either one would satisfy her.

I’m afraid your choice of outfit, along with your tardiness, requires a swift punishment. Up against the chair, please.

Alice eyed the saddle chair and paused. She was feeling very insolent tonight. Of course, Mr. Sinclaire noticed right away. He shook his head and sighed again.

Ahh, Alice, I see you are going to be very naughty tonight....Well. I’ll be breaking you of that first thing. Now, are you going to lean up against the chair on your own like a good girl, or will I have to help you?

Alice didn’t answer, but looked at him impudently.

Mr. Sinclaire’s expression became serious as he walked over to the wardrobe. When he turned around again, he was holding two soft leather wrist cuffs, one in each hand, connected by a long thick chain. He walked towards Alice in long strides, holding the cuffs in front of him.

Alice bolted across the room. Mr. Sinclaire came after her, maneuvering her until she was cornered against the wall by the bed. He quickly caught her around the waist and wrestled her face down onto the bed, holding her in place with his long body, and pulled her arms out from under her. Alice bucked her hips and tried to lift him off her; he pushed her into the mattress harder, using his body weight to keep her still.

She continued to struggle, but Mr. Sinclaire quickly had one leather strap buckled around one thin wrist; and then, pinning her arms together above her head, he buckled the other wrist, too. Alice’s arms were now linked together, leaving only a small space of chain to separate them.

Pulling her hard by the waist, Mr. Sinclaire stood Alice up.

Immediately, she tried to run again, but her host nonchalantly grabbed the chain between her wrists and pulled, and she was jerked against his chest. Looking into her eyes, taking in her defiant expression, Mr. Sinclaire began to wind the chain in his hand. It was somewhat heavy, but he did it with practiced ease.

Now, pulling her struggling form by the chain, he dragged her over to the saddle chair, stepped around it, and unceremoniously pulled her over it.

Alice grunted from the impact of the padding against her stomach; the chair was rather tall, and hit her just below the ribs. But Mr. Sinclaire pulled her over the chair even further, so that she was bent straight down the middle, and her feet could barely touch the floor.

He continued to pull her hands down until he got a grunt from the stretched woman, then unwound the chain from his hand and looped it through the hook set into the floor for just this purpose. Alice was now trussed up against the chair, her ass in the air, and not going anywhere.

She struggled against the chain for a minute, twisting her body, trying to pull up; but it was no use. She had known, of course, that it would be no use. But she still had to try, every time.

Now Mr. Sinclaire stepped behind her, taking his time. He looked over her bent form, still struggling against the chain, wiggling becomingly; her long, well shaped legs, dangling over the chair, straight and smooth; the jutting mounds of her presenting ass, the crescent shapes peaking out from her short skirt.

With her butt raised as it was, the indecent skirt had lifted from her struggles, and was now showing off the curving bottom swells of her ass delightfully. Mr. Sinclaire had a good view of the white translucent panties she wore underneath: they barely concealed the shadowy crack dividing her twin cheeks, and, below that, the smooth, bulging mound of her pussy. He took note of the wet stain spreading in the crotch of her panties, making them stick to her smooth skin. From the chase and their struggle, Alice was already obviously turned on.

You have been very naughty tonight, Alice, Mr. Sinclaire said. I’m afraid I’ll have to start you off with ten of my best—with the crop. Alice gasped. "Yes, ten with the crop, and we’ll just have to see how your