I was enjoying a conversation with a writer and discovering we both enjoy skiing.
I have never skied the Alps and have always wanted to. This year I decided to take a trip to Chamonix-Mont-Blanc in the French Alps. I booked a room at Heliopic Hotel & Spa. With the room, I purchased half board. This hotel also has a bar/lounge to enjoy, a full-service spa, sauna, ski storage, and a steam room.
I took a red-eye from Philadelphia; most flights across the ocean into Europe are usually red-eye flights. I landed in Geneva, Switzerland, at 8 AM. I might have gotten three hours of sleep. I never get good sleep on a plane unless I have two open seats next to me, but that rarely happens. I was tired.
Thankfully, I contracted a driver to take me to my hotel in Chamonix. It took 90 minutes, during which I was able to sleep for about 45 minutes. I chatted with the driver at the start of the trip and after I woke.
Upon arriving at the hotel, I decided to have a relaxing day. If you have ever traveled across the ocean on a red-eye, you know that the first day is mostly a wash. I checked in, but my room wasn’t ready since it was only 11 AM. I had my luggage and ski equipment stored. I asked the young woman at the front desk if I could schedule a massage that afternoon. They had an opening at 1 PM for a ninety-minute full-body massage.
I sat outside by the fire, enjoying a large Americano until it was time for my massage. I dozed off for a moment but was awakened by a sharp, melodic voice. A stunning red-haired woman was speaking French very coldly to her, I presume, boyfriend. It was like she was some militant and he was her subordinate. I was kind of glad they walked by, though, because it was ten minutes before 1 PM.
The massage was perfect. The woman was generous and used the perfect amount of pressure on my muscles. Everything was so perfect. After the massage, I received a text telling me, “Room 69 is ready. Use the app to unlock the door at all times.”
I went to my room, and my luggage was already there. I felt too relaxed. I turned on the television to see if any winter sports were being broadcast while lying on the bed. By 6 PM, I was hungry and arrived at the lounge for my dinner.
Sitting in the corner was that annoying red-haired woman berating her boyfriend. She wasn’t loud, but I could hear bits and pieces. I thought, “She needs a good spanking.”
Dinner was delicious. I chose the beef bourguignon with a half-bottle of red Burgundy. Since I wanted to get up at a decent time to ski the next day, I left the lounge and didn’t stop at the bar for a drink, even though it sounded lively.
I woke the next morning after sleeping like a log, refreshed and ready to ski for the day. I had a delicious breakfast of eggs, sausage, and croissants, with two cups of Americano. I walked down to the ski area to collect my equipment and got ready. They have ski-in/ski-out access, which is one reason why I chose this hotel.
The ski conditions were awesome. They had the slopes well-groomed, and there was no ice. The scenery was beautiful. It was great to ski on fluffy powder and not the man-made snow that turns to ice on a lot of East Coast USA slopes.
After two and a half hours of skiing, I decided to take a break and went into the lodge for a bite and a Peroni, since that was the light beer they had on tap.
I came out and got in line for the four-person ski chair lift. There weren’t many in line since this lift takes you to a different part of the mountain. There was another couple getting on the lift with me. If you know ski lifts, you turn to your outside to catch the chair as it swings around. I was on the far left, the woman was in the middle, and her boyfriend was on the far right. And wouldn’t you know it, I was sitting next to the annoying woman from the fire.
We pleasantly said our hellos, but I could feel her stiffen the moment she recognized me. The wind was whipping around us, making the lift cable hum. I leaned over towards the guy, speaking loud enough to be heard over the breeze but aimed right past her. I asked if he knew the difference between a woman and a beer. He laughed, shaking his head. I could see her face flushing red under her goggles. I said, “A woman goes down faster.”
Well, she nearly flew off the seat. She began a tirade about how sexist and vulgar that was, while her boyfriend couldn’t stop chuckling. She hissed at him, “You better not laugh at that chauvinistic trash.”
I laughed, which only fueled her fire.
As the lift climbed higher into the mountain, I leaned in. I pressed my helmet against hers, my breath hot against the side of her neck where her scarf had slipped. I whispered low so her boyfriend couldn’t possibly hear over the wind: “You are lucky I don’t pull out my cock right now and make you suck on it.” She snapped her head around, looking at me like I was from Mars. She gave a sharp, frantic “no,” but her eyes stayed locked on mine.
I leaned back in, my voice a low vibration against her ear. “I can see your mind is searching. Thinking about having a real man. One who puts you on your knees looking up at him.” This time her “no” was slower, more of a dazed reflex.
As we hit the halfway point to the top, the chair dangling above the powder, I whispered to her again, “By the time we get to the top, you’ll be so entranced thinking of being at my knees that you’ll follow me off the lift.” She didn’t look away this time. She stared at the mountain, her chest heaving under her jacket.
We were almost to the top. I leaned in one last time, my lips up against her ear. “I’ll bet your pussy is so wet right now,” I whispered, the words heavy and slow. “Just the thought of having my cock in your mouth… of me fucking your throat while your boyfriend sits there.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t pull away, either. She stared straight ahead at the top of the hill where the lift ends, her knuckles holding on tight to the safety bar. Her breathing was shallow in the cold air with jagged puffs of steam.
As the chair crested the platform, I felt her move—not away from me, but toward me, a dazed, magnetic pull. I pushed off the seat to the left; she instinctively followed my lead, her skis angling toward mine.
“Emma, what are you doing?” her boyfriend barked, reaching out to yank her back toward the right-hand exit, making her slip and fall. She looked up at him in a daze. “The left side is double black diamond! It’s too steep for you!”
She blinked, the trance gone. “You… you are right,” she stuttered, but her eyes trailed after me as I skied away with a broad smile on my face.
Again, the conditions were perfect. It started to snow lightly, which I love to ski in. At 3 PM, I decided I’d skied enough and stopped in the lodge for a Peroni and a scotch.
The red-haired feminist and her boyfriend were walking through the lodge lounge. I stopped them and asked them to join me for a drink. The woman, who said her name was Emma, and her boyfriend sat down with me. She ordered a gin and tonic, and he ordered a glass of red wine.
It was a nice chat. They loved the skiing, but he seemed tired. Emma tried to stay in character, but I could see her body was starting to take over her mind.
They got up to leave after their drink. I whispered to her, “I’ll bet you look fabulous in purple lingerie.” She looked at me like I had two heads.
I walked back to my room at the hotel, showered away the snow, and dressed for dinner. Tonight I chose the coq au vin. It was exquisite. Red wine-braised chicken. I paired it with a soulful, savory Burgundy. The chef has been on his game the last couple of nights.
As my table was being cleared, Emma and her boyfriend walked into the lounge. He looked utterly spent, with his shoulders slumped, walking very slowly. Emma had that familiar scowl I had come to recognize. Her eyes scanned the room until she turned and noticed me.
I beckoned them over. “Join me for a glass,” I motioned, holding my glass of wine. They drifted over to the table and sat down. Emma sat stiffly, and her boyfriend sank down in the chair, looking defeated. I couldn’t tell if it was from the mountain or from Emma.
“Rough day on the mountain?” I asked the boyfriend. Emma spoke up, “He fell on the double black diamond and hurt his back.”
I spoke up, “Can you let him speak for himself?”
Emma was silent for the next few minutes.
I kept the conversation on the slopes, the consistency of the grooming, and the friendliness of the clientele. Beneath the table, I let my shoes brush against Emma’s heels. She didn’t pull away.
I could see Emma’s scowl begin to crack. A certain smile was breaking through as she watched my mouth as I spoke with clarity and power.
Finally, Emma’s boyfriend smiled, his face tired from the day. “Emma, I think I am done. Ready to go?”
She nodded, “Oui.”
I caught the waiter’s eye and ordered another bottle of the Burgundy and two glasses to be sent to my room. We all rose from the table and walked towards the lobby of the hotel. As we reached the large atrium, I stepped close, my hand finding the small of Emma’s back. I leaned in, my voice a soft, intimate whisper against her hair. “Room 69. In one hour. Don’t be late.”
She didn’t look at me. She didn’t even flinch. She walked off with her boyfriend to the elevator. The doors closed on her standing with a man who was hurting and tired from skiing.
I walked into my room and shed my dinner clothes. I pulled on a t-shirt and boxers, feeling the pleasant pull of the Burgundy from dinner throughout my body.
A polite knock at the door announced the arrival of the bottle of wine I had ordered at the lounge. The steward opened the bottle and placed it on a silver tray with two glasses on the sideboard. I tipped him and closed the door.
After twenty minutes, I poured the dark red wine into both glasses, the bouquet filling my senses.
At exactly sixty minutes, there was a knock at my door. It wasn’t the professional rap of the steward; it was a hesitant knock. I stood up and walked to the door. When I swung it open, Emma was standing in the hallway. The jeans and heavy knit sweater from the lounge were gone. In their place, she wore a winter trench coat belted tightly at the waist and a pair of black heels. Her eyes were wide, wanting to rush into my room before she was seen.
I stepped back and escorted her into the room. The door closed behind us, and with my hand at her back, I directed her to the sideboard and handed her one of the glasses of wine. Emma took a large sip, her hand trembling. Her “feminist” armor dissolved, replaced by a look of profound, silent confusion. “I… I don’t know why I am here,” she murmured, her French accent much thicker now that her guard was down. She set the glass down and half-heartedly turned as if to walk to the door.
I reached out, my grip firm on her arm—not enough to hurt—and commanded, “You know exactly why you are here. Now, get on your knees.”
The defiance went out of her. Without a word of protest, Emma sank to her knees, her coat falling off her shoulders and pooling around her. Beneath it, she wore only the sheer purple lace I had imagined. She looked up at me, her eyes moving down to the front of my boxers.
Without a word from me, she reached out, her mouth seeking the head of my shaft. She kissed up and down my cock with her tongue protruding slightly. Her hands cupped my heavy balls while her tongue licked the length of me.
“Tell me, my submissive pet,” I said, looking down at her pretty face. “I’ll bet you have been daydreaming about this all afternoon.”
She paused, looking up with a dazed expression. “Oui, Monsieur,” she said, before taking me back in her mouth.
I groaned when she started to suck the head, her hand still cupping and squeezing my balls. Her nails lightly scratching them felt so good. Her mouth was sliding up and down, taking in half my cock as she came up for air, gasping. “Monsieur,” Emma said, “I am sorry, but I can’t take any more.”
I stroked her cheek and said, “That is quite all right. We will work on it each day.”
Emma looked at me and said, “Each day?”
I said, “Yes, my pet, each day.”
Emma relaxed and went back to sliding my cock in and out of her mouth, her hand now twisting the shaft. She was a pro. Her face and smile, knowing she was making me moan, had her working harder to make me cum.
I pulled Emma away for a second, looked into her eyes, and said, “I’m going to cum in your pretty mouth and throat. Do you understand?”
Emma said, “But Monsieur, I don’t like that.”
I responded, “My submissive pet, you will do what I say.”
She responded, “Oui, Monsieur.”
And she went back to working on me. Her mouth was sliding up and down, sucking and licking, as her hand was stroking and twisting. I was getting close. I grabbed her head and started pushing in and pulling out. My balls were twitching, ready to release.
“Oh fuck, Emma, so good. Don’t stop.” My cock unleashed a torrent. Emma kept her mouth open, relishing spurt after spurt onto her tongue, swallowing and sucking.
After a couple of minutes of Emma licking me clean, I pulled her up and kissed her deeply. I lay her on the bed, kissing her with my hands on her breasts.
“Is that how you expected it, my pet, in your daydreams throughout the day?”
Emma said, “Oui, Monsieur. It was better than my dream.”
She remained on her knees for a moment, her breathing returning to normal, as did mine.
“Stand up,” I commanded.
She rose. I stood back and admired the sight of this gorgeous woman. She was dressed in nothing but a set of sheer, deep purple lace. The delicate straps lay softly on her pale skin, and the matching thong framed the curve of her beautiful hips.
“Tell me, Emma, did you put this on when you got back from skiing, knowing we’d end up here?”
She froze, her cheeks rosy from blushing. Emma looked at the glass of wine on the sideboard, not wanting to meet my eyes. “Oui, Monsieur,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I… I have been thinking of nothing else since we left the lodge.”
I reached out, my hand on her chin, tilting her head up so she had to look at me. “Good. Then you know what comes next.”
I led her to the bed, laying her back against the white sheets. I leaned over her, my weight pinning her down.
“You’re not a militant tonight, Emma,” I whispered into her neck, the scent of her erotic perfume filling my nostrils. “Tonight, you’re just my pet.”
She let out a long, shattering moan. “Oui, Monsieur,” she breathed. “Anything you say.”
My hand slid to her wet thong, softly caressing the material. Emma moaned and spread her legs wider. I reached her breasts with my mouth, taking in each nipple, nibbling and sucking. My hand slid into her thong, touching her wet lips. Emma’s hips started to rock, pleading for me to make her cum in her thick French accent.
I removed the purple thong. Her pouty lips were glistening with a beautiful strip of red hair at her mons. I bit on her inner thighs, making her hips bounce. Emma spread her legs while I began my attack with my tongue. My tongue softly circled her clitoris while my fingers spread her lips. I swirled all around her, then down to taste her juices, then back up. Finally, I applied more pressure—up and down, circling faster. Emma was bucking into my mouth. “Please, Monsieur, I’m going to cum!”
Emma exploded with a loud moan as I moved faster. She tried to push my tongue away, but I slowly and softly brought her down from her orgasm.
I climbed up and kissed her deeply—a hard, possessive claim that tasted of Burgundy and raw desire. Emma kissed me back, tasting herself on my lips.
“Is this how you expected it, my pet? Better than the daydreams you had on the lift?”
“Oui, Monsieur,” she gasped, her head falling back. “Better. So much better.”
I pressed the head of my hard cock against her. She was slick, her body betraying every word of defiance she’d ever spoken. As I pushed in, a low guttural moan broke from her lips. I began a slow rhythm.
“You’re stretching me,” she moaned, a grimace of pleasure across her face. “I’ve never… I’ve never felt this.”
I leaned on Emma, pinning her into the mattress, and whispered in her ear as I caught the lobe between my teeth. “You are my baby girl tonight. My pet. Do you understand?”
“Oui, Monsieur,” she sobbed, her hips bucking to meet my thrusts.
The room filled with the sounds of bodies slapping and heavy breathing. I increased the pace, pulling her hips closer. Emma was lost, her eyes rolled back, her fingers digging into my back.
“Please, Monsieur,” she pleaded. “I’m going to cum! I’m going to cum!”
That spurred me on to drive into her harder and deeper. She exploded in a shattering moan, her entire body convulsing beneath me. I held her as she bucked, my own release building until I couldn’t hold back. I pulled out at the last second and came across her breasts.
We lay across the bed, spent and sated, the silence only broken by the Alpine wind. Emma lay in total bliss, her pale skin flushed, the purple lace tangled and ruined.
I cleaned my pet and kissed her beautiful lips. I knew she had to go back to her boyfriend. I walked her to the door for one more deep kiss. “You are my pet,” I whispered in her ear.
“Oui, Monsieur,” she whispered back.
