View from the Fourteenth Floor
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View from the Fourteenth Floor
by Greta Christina
If you've ever wanted to humiliate another woman, here's your chance. Bring what you need on our first date -- if we click, I'll want to do it right away. One night stands only.
Dana read the ad on Thursday. She masturbated furiously and then called the number. They made a date, and she spent most of Saturday making arrangements.
They met in a bar on Sunday evening. Dana arrived on time, and found Elizabeth already sitting in a corner booth. She was blonde, with an expensive haircut, dressed in a crisp white blouse and a single strand of pearls. She already had a drink in front of her. Dana settled into the booth. "So how long have you lived in New York?" she asked.
"Six days," Elizabeth said. "Look. Here are my limits. I don't like extreme physical pain, but keep it reasonable and we'll be fine. Psychologically you can do almost anything. My safeword is 'safeword.' And I mean it about the one night stand. After tonight, we're done." She took a sip of her drink. "You?"
Dana bit her lip. Elizabeth's tone offended her, made her want to slap the woman down. She noticed her clit thumping, and wondered for a moment if she was being played, if the girl was pissing her off on purpose. She stared rudely at Elizabeth's tits, and decided it didn't matter. "Your limits are fine," she said. "And mine aren't relevant to you. Do you want to do it?"
Elizabeth looked at Dana like she was appraising china. Finally she gave a small nod. "Yes. Let's do it."
"Good," Dana said. "That's the last word I want to hear from you until... well, ever, I guess." She strode out the door, leaving her drink untouched, and whistled for a cab. Elizabeth followed, eyeing her suspiciously as they got in the taxi. "Lester Hotel," Dana told the cabbie. "The one in midtown." She stayed silent all the way to the hotel, where she led Elizabeth to the fourteenth floor and pulled a key from her pocket.
Elizabeth looked around as the door closed behind her. The room looked untouched, except for an armchair sitting at an odd angle in the dressing nook off the bedroom. The decor was elegant and unpretentious, with tall windows that took up most of the outside wall. Dana switched on all the lights, switched off the one in the dressing nook, settled into the armchair, and began to speak.
"Did you know that every week, dozens of telescopes are sold in the city of New York? Hundreds even, on a busy week. Interesting statistic. Nobody seriously thinks all those people are stargazing in Connecticut on weekends. Everyone knows exactly what all those New Yorkers are doing with all those telescopes. And yet everyone goes on with their lives, in front of their open windows, as if they actually had privacy.
"Open the curtains."
She could see Elizabeth flinch before she obeyed. Good, she thought. This could work.
"It's Sunday night," Dana continued, "so a lot of people are home. And bored, and looking for something to do. When I scoped out the room earlier, I estimated about five thousand windows with a direct view of this one. Probably about fifty have telescopes. More if you count binoculars. So I'm guessing we've got anywhere from ten to thirty people in the audience tonight. Maybe more.
"Now take off your blouse and wander around the room. Act like you're a normal human being who's just changing for dinner, but keep turning to face the window."
Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. She turned from the window and looked Dana in the face, dismayed, her arrogance slipping off like a discreet partygoer escaping a bad soiree.
"Don't look at me," Dana snapped. "Face the window again. Now." Elizabeth complied, her shoulders slumping, and Dana went on, calmer. "See, I placed this chair very carefully. I can see you, and your reflection in the window, but people outside probably can't see me. So don't look at me again. I don't want our audience to know I'm here. I want them to think you're doing this on your own.
"I was going to build this up nice and slow, give you some time to get used to it. But now I don't think I'm going to. Strip down to your bra and panties, and start doing jumping jacks."
This was good, Dana thought as she crossed her legs. She could see Elizabeth squeeze her eyes shut as she wriggled out of her skirt and stripped off her shoes and pantyhose; she could see the reflection of the woman's blushing face as she tentatively began to jump up and down. She could see Elizabeth's butt jiggling through her panties, her breasts bouncing in her white bra, like a jiggle girl in a music video. She cleared her throat.
"Right about now," she said, "your audience should be figuring out that something's up. They're realizing that you haven't just forgotten about the curtains. By now they know you're doing this on purpose.
"Open the bedside drawer."
Elizabeth complied. She looked inside and cringed, arrogant revulsion arguing on her face with shame and disgrace. Dana hadn't picked the toys to be tacky on purpose: she just hadn't wanted to mess with condoms and stuff, so she'd picked up a few cheap things she could throw away. But now the choice seemed serendipitous. Inspired even. She loved the thought of making this arrogant bitch put these sleazy things into her body in full view of midtown Manhattan.
"So let's get started," she said. "Lay the toys out on the bed. Take off your bra and panties. Then lie on the bed with your cunt facing the window. Put the pillows under your head so people can see your face, and spread your legs."
She could see Elizabeth breathing hard. The woman was obeying, but she was doing it slowly, hesitantly, and Dana wasn't sure if she was genuinely scared or drawing things out on purpose. Either way was fine with Dana. She pressed her thighs together as she watched Elizabeth display her new toys and spread herself out.
"So we've shown them you're an exhibitionist," Dana said. "Now let's show them that you're a pervert. Put the ball gag in your mouth. Stick the buttplug in your asshole. And then spread your cunt lips apart with your fingers. Don't touch your clit. Not yet."
Elizabeth stared fiercely at the wall as she bit down on the pink rubber ball and fiddled behind her head to buckle the straps. She turned over to insert the buttplug, but Dana snapped her fingers. "No," she barked. "Stay on your back. I know it's awkward. That's what I want." She felt a warm glow in her stomach as she watched Elizabeth struggle, groping for her asshole with her feet in the air. She could see Elizabeth fighting to regain some dignity as she settled back into place; she could see that dignity slip away again as the girl remembered her instructions, put her fingers on her pussy lips, and slowly spread them apart. Dana paused for a moment to enjoy the view: the city lights, the wall of highrise windows shining in the night sky, with Elizabeth's debased reflection superimposed over it all. She let Elizabeth lie quietly for a minute, let her exposure sink in. Then she spoke again.
"I notice you keep your eyes away from the window. You keep focusing on something else, or else you close your eyes. So look out the window now. Think of the people watching you, and look them in the eye."
Dana waited patiently as Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, shuddered, and reluctantly turned to face her reflection. She caught Elizabeth's eye and saw her whimper; her pussy clenched, and she pressed on. "Now take the dildo in one hand," she said, "and the ruler in the other. Stick the dildo in your cunt and fuck yourself. Every few strokes, pull the dildo out and smack your pussy a few times with the ruler. Then do it all again. And keep your eyes on the people watching you.
"Here's the picture they're getting. They see a woman who goes into a hotel room and puts on a free sex show. They see a woman who opens her curtains, strips, jumps up and down to get their attention, then opens her legs, puts a gag in her mouth and a plug in her asshole, and spanks herself on the pussy while she fucks herself. All for them to see. And they're looking you in the eye. You can't hide from them. They know who you are."
The dildo was a squishy plastic one, a lurid pinky-tan with prominent veins. She could see Elizabeth cringe as she slid it into her visibly wet pussy; she watched her flinch as she pulled it out, gripped the ruler, and gave her clit a few hesitant smacks. It was all gone now, the arrogance, the composure, the sense of entitlement. She had stripped the woman down to a trashy slut giving a free sex show to strangers with nasty toys from a corner porn shop. Dana took a deep breath and delivered the final blow.
"I'm leaving now," she said. "I have another hotel room across the street, with my own telescope. I expect you to keep up the show for another hour. You can do any nasty degrading thing to yourself that you like, but keep the ball gag in, and keep your eyes on the window. If I don't like what I see, I'm coming back, and you won't be happy about that." She paused. "If I do like what I see, I won't be back. In an hour you can shut the curtain and do what you want. The room's paid up for the night. Checkout's at noon. It's been lovely."
Dana dropped the room key on the floor and left Elizabeth on the bed, violating herself, alarmed, shivering, near tears. She whistled quietly as she shut the door and rode the elevator to the lobby. She caught a cab in front of the hotel, and told the driver to take her home.
Copyright 2003 Greta Christina. Originally published in On Our Backs. Reprinted in On Our Backs: The Best Erotic Fiction, Volume Two, edited by Diana Cage, Alyson Publications. Reprinted again under the title "Humiliate Me" in Best S/M Erotica 2, edited by M. Christian.