My Weekend Away

By Barbara Powell

Experience the erotic pleasure of being dominated for the first time. "My Weekend Away" is your weekend away, written in first person so you may share every breathtaking moment with me. Passion and submission collide in two days of orgasmic ecstasy, sprinkled liberally with public display, light BDSM, and steamy sex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Powell
• Release date: Dec 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301999200

Barbara Powell

I grew up all over the place. My father followed mining and construction. Many of the places where we lived no longer exist, at least as physical structures. Sulphur and Trego are names on a map. Only a few boards and rusted cans mark where the towns once stood. The tapestry of relationships these towns once held are gone. All that remains are memories and stories. I live in Winnemucca Nevada in a house my grandfather built surrounded by trees and shrubs. Wild birds and critters are welcome, as well as a changing number of rescue dogs. I love visiting and listening to people, always have. A favorite occupation in small town Nevada! Now I'm using the most compelling of these stories in my novels. Not all of them are set in Nevada, but all of them are based on generations of stories told and retold. You can read some of these stories, in short form, at nevadadsdesertlegends.com

Book preview

My Weekend Away

By Barbara Powell

Copyright 2012 Barbara Powell

Smashwords Edition

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Chapter One

Barely able to sit still during the flight, I had tried in vain to relax and not think about what was going to happen. My heart was already pounding in my chest, my breathing somewhere between a pant and hyperventilation. When I stepped off the plane, I had no idea what to expect. Somehow I at least expected to see him. But in his place was a driver with my name on a sign. Well, not my name exactly; the sign simply said Tammy. This was going to be stranger than I anticipated.

I identified myself and was handed a small black shopping bag. I followed the driver, assuming we were heading to his car. When he stopped in front of the ladies’ room, I understood immediately. I went in to change clothes, already blushing scarlet. What would be in the mystery bag? How much did the driver know? The carry on that I had brought with me only contained toiletries; I had not been allowed to bring any of my own clothes. So this was all I had, presumably for the entire weekend.

As I pulled the items out one by one, I was progressively more embarrassed and yet turned on at the same time. The short, black leather skirt was so soft I couldn’t stop touching it. But I didn’t have time to dawdle, so I kept going. The matching black leather shoes were exactly what I expected: four-inch heels with a strap around the ankle, a delicate brass lock on the front of each strap. The locks were both open now; but once I put them on, I wouldn’t be able to take them off without the keys. And I didn’t have the keys. At least there was no lock on the black choker that was here. But it had a strange silver loop on the front; my throat constricted as I realized it was a hook for a leash.

The white cotton peasant blouse was unexpectedly demure, until I realized I could see through it. This must be his concession to the cool weather. It was more humane than I expected, and probably the only compassion I would receive. The next thing I pulled out was a black satin corset. I gasped in surprise as I realized what he had done to me. There were no hooks on the back; the corset was the old-fashioned kind with strings. I would have to ask a stranger to help me dress myself. There was no way I would be able to put this on alone. What other humiliation was in store for me?

The other items in the bag were a bit more private, if not less surprising. The white panties were made of stretch satin. These I could handle. The delicate butterfly-shaped vibrator made me blush again. It had straps to go around my hips so that I could wear it under my clothes. I knew it was remote controlled, although the controller was not in the bag. This was one of the few warnings I had received; he would have the remote and I had to learn to control my reactions so that no one would know when he turned it on. How was I supposed to control that?

I hurried to get dressed. I was careful with the stockings and garter belt. I did not want to carelessly put a run in the black nylon. I could not take the chance of that type of disappointment after all his planning and preparation. From the waist down, everything was perfect. But I still had to find someone to tie my corset. I waited in panic in the empty ladies’ room. How could an airport this size not have anyone else in the restroom at two in the afternoon? Surely a flight attendant or some over-hydrated passenger would need to visit soon. It seemed like an eternity passed while I waited, the corset clutched against my chest to keep it from falling, my cheeks still burning from the blood under my skin.

I had almost resorted to asking the driver to help me when a harried-looking woman rushed in. I waited patiently now; relieved that she didn’t have any kids with her and she wasn’t eighty years old. I only hoped she was open-minded enough to help me without asking too many questions. Then she stepped out to the sink and looked at me for the first time. I’m terribly sorry to bother you, I started meekly. Would you be able to help me get this tied?

She was incredulous. I don’t know what reaction I expected, but why couldn’t she just say something? She stood completely still, her mouth hanging open, staring at me in shock. Um… I tried to start again. This seemed to get her moving. She wouldn’t look me in the eye (and I don’t think I wanted her to) but she stepped forward to help. I turned my back toward her and pushed the sides of the corset so she could pull the strings. She hesitated a moment before touching anything, but then sighed quietly as she seemed to give in. I was grateful she wasn’t asking any questions. I would not have known what to tell her.

She pulled the corset delicately and asked timidly, Is that too tight? This was as bad as having to explain. I had to get her to pull it tight enough that he would be pleased.

No, as tight as you can pull it, please. Don’t worry about hurting me. Oh, my. Had I really just said that to a stranger? But she obliged. I exhaled harshly as she constricted the corset around my body. Wow, she must have some hidden frustrations. She quickly tied off the garment and asked if that was all I needed. I thanked her graciously and she practically ran out of the ladies’ room. I went back to my bag to complete my transformation.

I slipped into the loose, shear white blouse. I opened my carry on and retrieved my makeup. Hmmm…heavy makeup without looking like a clown. This would be its own challenge. It took a few minutes, but I finally finished. The bronzer I had used on my skin helped to even out the blushing circles on my cheeks, but I don’t think anything could hide that completely. The smoky eye shadow I chose was somewhere between a brown and a dark gray. The black eye liner and mascara helped keep me from looking quite so scared. I still couldn’t believe I was here. And soon, I wouldn’t be alone.

There was one last thing in the black bag. It was a small white box with the words Les Cheveux imprinted in gold. I lifted it carefully and set it on the counter, then nervously opened the lid. I knew it was a wig, but the color was a shock. Platinum blond, so light it was almost white. And so long, it would probably hang to my waist. I pulled it on and carefully arranged it. After one last look in the mirror, I put my traveling clothes and toiletries into my carry on, took a deep breath, and headed out to face what was in store for me.

Chapter Two

Amazingly, the driver did not even raise an eyebrow at my changed appearance. Unbelievable. I expected some acknowledgement. I guess I was better off with no reaction than a lot of questions. He turned and walked off toward the short-term parking lot, not even checking to see if I was behind him. I followed as quickly as I could in my new shoes, but I couldn’t quite catch up with him. At least I was able to keep him in sight; I reached the town car as he was opening the back door for me. I quickly slid into the seat. As the driver started the car, he reached to hand me an envelope. Then he backed out of the parking space and left the garage without a word.

I eagerly ripped open the flap of the envelope. I unfolded the stiff paper and read my private message: Not one word without my permission. We were closer to our destination that I expected. We had been on the road for less than 10 minutes when the driver pulled under the portico of the Hilton. Uh-oh. I thought it would be a place more suited to my current appearance and our intended purpose. This was sure to be fraught with whispers, stares, and speculation. And to make it worse, I could