Just like Magic Part 2 - The long way back - Sex Stories

Just like Magic Part 2 - The long way back

... could I opened the wardrobe, it was filled with all manner of things, suits, dresses, skirts. I didn't have long to choose but almost anything would be better than the barbie pink slut combo I got from Dean. Almost of their own accord my hands closed around a dress, simply cut in red it bared the shoulders and a bit of cleavage but ran all the way down to my knees while clinging tight to my curves. Deciding that underwear was a waste of time I didn't have I slipped it on. A glance in the mirror told me I looked good, although my hair was a mess and I knew I smelled of sex. Next I went to her hand bag and found her purse. The bitch was going to tell me into slavery, robbing her wasn't going to trouble my conscience. Cards and phones would be too easy to track and I did not want these people coming after me so I just took the cash, a couple of hundred pounds worth, and left the rest. Finally I went back to the wardrobe and grabbed one of the coats hanging there. Knee length and black it might not have gone with the dress but at least it was warm. All this had taken almost ten minutes and I was really pushing my luck. Sure Katrina might spend half an hour in the bath, but she might not and she knew she had a damn prisoner to look after. Her own arrogance might have made her leave me alone but it was time to leave. Thankfully the Albion had very quiet doors, I slid out into the hallway and walked straight to the lift trying not to look as though my heart was pounding hard ...

... enough to break the skin. It wasn't until I reached the lobby that I realised I still had the butt plug in. That was a problem for another time, my problem now was the same one that had troubled me for two days. Where next? As I stood there in that beautiful modern lobby, with slavers in the room above and a bitter wind outside, my mind turned to another hotel and the man who would be there for just one more day. I couldn't live like this. Every few hours I found disaster, I just couldn't control myself. It was all Virgil's fault and the thought of going back to the bastard who had done this to me for help made my blood boil. In the end though I knew I didn't have a choice. I was going back to the Regency. The lobby clock told me it was half past one but it was a busy hotel and I drew no notice aside from an amicable greeting from the receptionist. A pair of well dressed revellers all but staggered through the revolving door as I went the other way to the taxi rank nearby. I got into the second one (you can't be too careful as I was discovering, my run in with Katrina had made me a little paranoid) and stilled his complaints about the cab rank rule with a smile and a flirtatious giggle. Conscious that I was in danger of reverting to bimbo mode I gave the cabby (a old fat chap) the post code of the Regency theatre, though not the name. Like I said, paranoid. Light and darkness flashed past the windows as we sped through the early hours of a winter morning. Conversation was limited ...