I slipped into a dressing gown, and as Mr Loverman heard the swishing of fabric he stayed close, clearly expecting to be relieved of his blindfold. Poor, naïve, little innocent. I swept into the bedroom, clicking my fingers for him to follow. Fetching the swipe pass for his bedroom and his small and neatly packed holdall, I opened the door of my room.

"Come along," I chided, "we don't have all day."

"Miss?" he asked nervously.

"Time for you to go back to your room now. I have things to do."

"I don't know where it is."

"I'm going to tell you that now. Come along."

"Can I take my blindfold off?"

"No."

"Can I put my clothes on?"

"No."

"But I can't. I can't wander around the corridors blindfolded with no clothes. I'll get arrested."

"Well, you'd better just make sure you find your room quickly and get out of sight, hadn't you." I took his hand and pressed the swipe card into it. "It goes in this way round," I instructed him, holding it at the correct angle. You're in 404. Opposite side of the corridor, two doors to the left. Got it?"

"But Miss 3;"

"I'll call you when I want you to return. And when you do I want this still in place," I indicated to his blindfold, "and this, of course." I squeezed his cock again, content to notice that his predicament had ensured it was rock hard again. "You can play with yourself to keep it up, but you are not to come. Do you understand?"

Without waiting for a reply, I pushed him out of the door and he staggered into the empty corridor, still mumbling. Loudly, I slammed the door and left him to his fate. As I stood, listening, I heard a high pitched whimper, like Stan Laurel on helium, and laughed delightedly. Mr Loverman was on his own now, and learning the hard way that although submissives serve in order to gratify their own particular needs, they may not always enjoy or appreciate what happens to them. Too many people enter the scene believing that if they just prostrate themselves in front of a superior person for a while, and tend to their needs, they will automatically be given their own sexual gratification. It doesn't necessarily work like that, and Mr Loverman had to learn to take the rough with the smooth, had to learn that serving me wasn't all foot jobs and fumbled flashes in the office.

After a moment, I silently opened the door to observe his progress. He was panic stricken and rooting about hurriedly, feeling his way along the opposite wall of the corridor. He was close to his door, and muttered a heartfelt "yes" when he felt the frame and found it. His little cock, adorned with the pretty, red ribbon, bobbed anxiously in front of him, pointing towards the door as though indicating the way. He searched frenziedly for the swipe pad, all the more so when voices appeared from our left, from the adjoining corridor; they must have come out of the lift, and if they were coming in our direction, Mr Loverman had about eight seconds to remove himself from sight. I swung my door ajar and hid behind it, my head peering round so that I could still observe the scene.

Mr Loverman had found the swipe pad, but the poor fool was presenting his card the wrong way round. Idiot: I had shown him the correct way, so he must have reversed it as he fumbled in the corridor. The voices were getting louder, and it seemed certain he would be caught. Mr Loverman was whining persistently, a constrant, thrumming "no, no, no," and I almost felt sorry for him. He tried every permutation, turning the card in every conceivable position, and finally I heard a click. He turned the handle and swung the door open, at the very moment that two men turned the corner into our corridor. They would surely have had a glimpse of the naked Mr Loverman as he dived into his room, but no more than that. Discreetly, I closed my door.

"Did you see that?" I heard one say to the other as they passed me.

"I don't know," laughed the other. "Looked like he had a blindfold round his eyes."

"And one round his dick, too."

"I didn't see that bit. That's conferences for you." Their voices faded as they passed along the corridor and, satisfied, I returned to the bathroom to finish my preparations. I gave Mr Loverman about twenty minute to calm himself down and then phoned reception to be asked to be put through to him.

"Hello?" he enquired cautiously.

"Hello," I said, disguising my voice, "this is the duty manager. I have had some disturbing reports about you, Mr Derham. Running about the corridor with no clothes on." There was silence. "Blindfolded." Further silence. "What we don't understand is why your little cock is blindfolded as well?"

At this, Mr Loverman guessed it was me. "Miss?" he whispered.

"Yes, Mr Loverman, it is. I'm ready for you. Come back to my room. Now."