Stripped Naked by a Stranger in the Hotel
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About this ebook
A mysterious and wealthy alpha male takes her on a long WALK OF NAKED SHAME all the way from his hotel room, down the corridors, down the elevator, right to the busy reception desk just as three tour buses unload a crowd of guests.
The shame and embarrassment are overwhelming as she is BARED FOR ALL TO SEE. The thrills and excitement cause her to succumb to shuddering orgasms as the crowd cheers and leers.
Every part of her body is exposed from every angle. Then her boss and colleagues arrive. Just as the hot billionaire is tickling her, teasing her, torturing her with pleasure to another shameful shuddering climax amidst a crowded cacophony of whoops and cheers.
She learned the ultimate lesson. And this is something for you to take on board. The ultimate experience in freedom and pleasure.
Baldassare Cossa
I bear good tidings! I give you a message of orgasm! A message of pleasure! A message of Sodom!I am a Prophet of a new religion, a new dawn, a new age of delights where you find yourself through your Pleasures. Let your pleasure be your path to your true self - to your Will! And let love and orgasm be what binds us together! Let mutual pleasure be Our Way!To hell with the moral codes of old - they divide us and rule us and leave us blind and deaf! They harm more than help - to whom are they useful but those who love harm and suffering and superstitious ignorance?I write good things - even though I have to say some horrendous things to bring out the truly good. I have already been banned - a fine book of mine has been banned because its carefully selected short stories each bearing a philosophic message that stands on its own and combines with the rest, displeased the censors at Amazon Kindle. They want you to remain blind and deaf! I give you good news! Another way - a new way yet a way that is truly ancient. I bring back the truth.Emancipation! Pleasure! Orgasm!I do not mislead - for I do not even lead. That is not my way. I want you to READ - for yourself, what I write, and take what you Will and use it for your pleasure, and the pleasures of those whom you love (and may you have many lovers!). And if you must - do please curse me and hate me, for still even then I have done good for you. For by cursing me you have chosen some direction - I pray that direction is toward pleasure, knowing thyself, and finding and spreading love and pleasure.The time has come and I will do much! I will WRITE! I will make music, and plays, and films, and many books of philosophy and many stories. I will paint and even do academia.I will love you and offer you love and pleasure - I only want you to find God in Sacred Holy Orgasm.Come, follow me. Walk with me a while. Let us all come together...
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Stripped Naked by a Stranger in the Hotel - Baldassare Cossa
Stripped Naked by a Stranger Series
Stripped Naked by a Stranger in the Hotel
Baldassare Cossa
Copyright 2013 Baldassare Cossa
Published at Smashwords
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Isabelle cursed under her breath. She swiped the card for a fifth time, aggressively for a sixth, then a seventh, eighth and ninth quickly and irritably. Red beeps rebuked her. After a long third day of business conferencing and four more to go all she wanted to do was get into her hotel room, shower and sleep. She tousled her mouse brown hair and caught sight of a tall figure in her periphery. She smiled inwardly – her subconscious told her that good pedigree was coming her way.
When Isabelle turned to gaze at him she could not help but smile. God what a god. Five foot ten of slim, sleek, muscular male power, impeccably dressed in a casual black blazer, crisp white Nehru collar shirt, black trousers upheld by a shining clip belt. His black loafers had an impeccable shine that reflected their high monetary value. Isabelle's gaze darted back up over his beautiful body – over his protruding crotch and across that wide chest with tight pectorals before settling on his perfect symmetric face set squarely between wide lean shoulders. His smirk made her blush. The still gaze from his grey-blue eyes set above that long aquiline nose, beneath a high and intelligent forehead, somehow unnerved yet soothed her. In his power she was helpless yet obviously safe. His perfectly combed and waxed mouse brown hair told her he was in total control of his own superiority, his masculinity, his power. God his power...
Your card isn't working,
he smiled, a wave of expensive cologne titillated her nose why don't you come into my room? You look tired.
What could she say to that? Isabelle bit her lower lip at the declaration of what she was going to do. After all – why not? How not? Her gaze darted up and down his perfect form once more, catching over his crotch like a foot might trip on a tuft of grass. Isabelle felt a light flush over her entire body, most distinct upon her cheeks. The lightest tingles circled her nipples beneath her white blouse and lace bra, and the tiniest tingles tickled and encircled her clitoris in sympathy. Women are never supposed to say yes to such invitations – from male strangers. After all, he might be a wild rapist, even an axe murderer? But what a way to die. And even worse than the bogeyman story – any woman who says yes is the lowest species of life, lower than a whore, less than a prostitute.
Fuck convention. Nobody will know will they? And why shouldn't I? I know what I am and what I'm not. And I know I want him. If he's an axe murderer and I'm a whore – what a way to be when I die.
He looked her up and down, with a wicked smirk. His eyes lingered across her size 12 hips, up and down her legs – her black lace stockings hid her sharp knees. Isabelle was conscious they were perhaps too pointy – but he admired without complaint. Were her hips too wide? He was enjoying the view and this only made her tingles worse. Up over her abdomen and across her bosom his eyes darted and leered with no effort to hide the fact he was looking. Were her 34B breasts too big for her figure? Too small for her proportions? She tousled her mouse brown hair again. Perhaps a sideseam would have been better than a middle seam. She