What the Trans Woman Did to Me in That Hotel

After that first encounter, I couldn’t think about anything else. I’d hired Mariela a couple of months earlier, and although she’d come with another man at the time and nothing explicit had ever happened between us, something stayed with me for weeks. What I remembered most was the way her fingers had explored me, that stimulation I had never allowed myself and that ended up completely throwing me off.

I filled the emptiness of those weeks with curiosity and a little shame. Every time I closed my eyes I went back to the same image, so one afternoon, almost without thinking, I wrote to her. I told her I wanted to do it again, but this time just the two of us. And I asked her to bring everything she had: toys, whatever. I confessed that I had liked what she did to me far too much and that I wanted to go further.

—Are you sure how far you want to go? —she asked me by message.

—I have no idea —I replied honestly—. I want you to decide.

There was a long pause before she answered with a hotel address and a time.

***

The room was one of those without any personality: thick curtains, an oversized bed, the constant hum of the air conditioner. I arrived early and waited sitting on the edge of the mattress with sweaty hands, like a teenager. When Mariela knocked, my heart was already racing.

She came in with a small purse and a black cloth bag that she left on the bed without saying much. She was even more imposing than I remembered: tall, sure of every movement, with a smile that seemed to already know everything that was going to happen.

—I’m going to take a shower —she said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

I kept staring at the bag. Curiosity pulled at me, but I didn’t dare open it. When she came out, wrapped only in a towel, she approached and held my gaze.

—What exactly do you want today? —she asked.

—I want you to use my body like no one has ever done —I said, and my voice came out shakier than I expected.

She smiled to one side, as if that sentence gave her permission for everything. She asked for payment upfront and I handed it over without arguing. Then, with a calm that made me more nervous than any rush, she told me to get undressed.

I did. She let the towel fall at the same time, and for a moment I had no idea where to look, trapped between shyness and a desire I no longer knew how to hide.

***

—Lie down —she ordered, giving the mattress a soft slap.

I obeyed. From the bag she took out two cotton ropes, thick and soft to the touch. She tied my wrists to the bars of the headboard, one on each side, checking the knots carefully to make sure they wouldn’t hurt me but wouldn’t give either. Then she placed a pillow under my lower back, made me lift my legs, and with another rope she secured each ankle to the wrist on the same side.

I was completely exposed. On my back, legs spread and raised, with no more room to move than to bend my knees a little. Pulling on the ropes was useless, and that feeling of being unable to do anything ran down my spine like a current.

—Look at yourself —she murmured, walking around the bed—. So willing.

She started speaking to me softly, in my ear, telling me things that made my face burn. She described in detail what she planned to do to me and promised, with playful cruelty, that when she finished she’d leave me like that, tied up, so the cleaning staff would find me. I didn’t know whether she meant it seriously, and that uncertainty only turned me on more.

I realized I was erect. She noticed instantly.

—Not like that —she said, shaking her head—. We’re not starting until that goes down.

I had to think about anything else, stare at the ceiling, count the cracks in the plaster, until little by little my body calmed down again. Only then did she take from the bag a rigid plastic piece, some kind of cage with a small lock. I recognized it from the internet, though I had never used one. With a tenderness that contrasted with everything else, she placed it on me and locked it shut.

Now there’s no turning back, I thought, feeling the cold weight of the metal and the total loss of control.

***

The game started slowly. She climbed onto the bed and kissed me, first the mouth, then the neck, biting just enough. Then she settled over me in an inverted position, so that her body was over my face while her mouth brushed the cage imprisoning me.

She ran her tongue over the plastic, knowing I could barely feel anything, that that was exactly the point. At the same time, one of her fingers began tracing slow circles around my opening, without pressing, only insinuating itself. Frustration and pleasure mixed together in a way I had never experienced before.

She changed position. She knelt between my open legs and lowered her head. Her tongue replaced her finger, wet and hot, and I let out a groan I couldn’t hold back. I pulled on the ropes out of pure instinct. She took her time, alternating her tongue with the gentle pressure of the pad of her finger, until I felt how, very slowly, she began to go inside me.

—Relax —she told me—. You’re doing well.

Her finger pushed farther, and her mouth moved up to my testicles, trapping them with a suction that was pleasurable and painful at the same time. I shouted several times for her to stop, not because I really wanted her to, but because the intensity was overwhelming me. She laughed softly against my skin.

—We’re just getting started.

***

She took a medium-sized silicone plug from the bag, nothing exaggerated. She coated it in lubricant patiently and pressed it against me. There was a moment of resistance, a stab of pain, and then a strange fullness that made me hold my breath. She pushed it all the way in and stayed there looking at me with satisfaction.

—Get used to it —she said, and then she did something I hadn’t expected: she stood up, sat in the chair by the window, and took out her phone.

I called out to her in a low voice, but she put a finger to her lips, asking for silence while she talked to someone about trivial things, as if I weren’t there, tied up and pierced through by her toy. The waiting became its own torture. Every minute stretched out while my body adjusted to the plug and my mind got lost between humiliation and the desire for more.

When she hung up, she came back over and removed the plug with a slow movement.

—Almost —she murmured, more to herself than to me—. But it still needs more.

I didn’t understand what she meant until I saw her take out another object. It was an inflatable dilator, with a rubber bulb like a blood pressure cuff. She inserted it carefully and started pumping.

Through the wardrobe mirror I could see how it expanded inside me with each squeeze. It didn’t hurt, at least not as much as I feared, but the pressure kept growing until it became the absolute center of all my sensations. I decided to let my body go, breathe deeply, and surrender. She kept going until she left it fully inflated, abandoning me like that, open and throbbing.

***

While I tried to process all of that, she settled in front of my face. What came next literally stole my breath: she used my mouth at a pace that barely let me breathe. I felt nauseous, my eyes filled with tears, but also a dark pleasure I hadn’t known existed in me. I endured it, wanting to last, wanting to prove to her that I could.

She pulled away just in time. She deflated and removed the dilator, and the sudden emptiness made me moan. Then she put on a latex glove.

—This is what you need —she said, spreading oil over her hand.

She pushed. She tried several times, with her hand closed, trying to get in all the way. A cramp shot through my legs and I truly screamed. She didn’t manage it; my body wasn’t giving that much, and she, far from forcing it, changed strategy. She started going in and out with three or four fingers, at a steady rhythm, while with her other hand she caressed me through the cage.

It was perfectly calculated cruelty: she stimulated me without allowing me anything, kept my body on the edge without letting me cross it. Her fingers kept moving inside me, finding a spot that made me writhe, until, against all logic, I felt like I was going to come.

The orgasm came trapped, drop by drop, without the erection the cage prevented. It was a strange release, intense and frustrated at the same time, accompanied by a dull ache in my testicles. I stayed there panting, not knowing whether what I had just felt was pleasure or punishment.

***

Mariela got up without hurry. She took off the glove, went to the bathroom, and showered while I remained tied up, catching my breath. When she came out, she took the cage off me and started gathering her things, putting each toy back into the black bag with the same calm with which she had taken them out.

—I’m leaving you the ropes —she said, amused—. And if you want to do it again, you know how to find me.

—Wait —I said, still with my wrists tied—. Untie me.

She only smiled. She picked up her purse, slung the bag over her shoulder, and walked to the door.

—Mariela, seriously —I insisted, now with a knot of fear in my stomach—. Don’t leave me like this.

—Someone’s going to come —she said from the threshold, without quite turning around—. Trust me.

And she left.

***

The silence in the room became enormous. I pulled at the ropes, but the knots held. Tied up on my back, unable to ask for help, I had no choice but to wait and pray that she hadn’t lied about someone coming.

About fifteen minutes later I heard knocks on the door. I shouted for them to come in, that the door wasn’t locked. I assumed Mariela had warned the hotel staff before leaving, as one last move in her script.

Two maintenance workers came in. Seeing me like that, they froze for a second and then laughed under their breath, covering their mouths. My face was burning with shame, but I decided to take it in stride and joked with them while they came closer to untie me.

—It’s not the weirdest thing we see in this job —one of them said, undoing the knots.

When I finally had my hands free, I thanked them and apologized a thousand times. I took out some money from my wallet to make up for the bad moment and for their discretion. They took it naturally, wished me better luck next time, and left with muffled laughter.

***

I sat on the edge of the bed, sore but strangely satisfied. My whole body was asking for rest, and every muscle reminded me of what I had just lived through. I stayed like that for a while, looking at the empty bag that was no longer there, the ropes still hanging from the headboard, the absurd gift she had left me.

I got dressed slowly, still red with embarrassment, but with an idiotic smile I couldn’t erase. I had arrived at that hotel not knowing what I was looking for, and I was leaving with the certainty that I had crossed a line I didn’t plan on retracing.

I put the ropes in my coat pocket. Just in case. Something told me that wouldn’t be the last time I called her.