Obey Me

Chapter Four – “Obey Me”

Ardyn

The woman in the photo wouldn't leave me alone.

She haunted my thoughts more than the man who kept me locked inside this mansion. And that was saying something, considering how Caelum consumed my every breath.

After last night, I should’ve stayed in my lane—done the chores, kept my head down, avoided locked doors and sharp stares. But that look in his eyes when he mentioned her…

There was history there. Pain. And something else.

Something I wanted to understand.

So I started digging.

It began small. Casual questions to the other maids during laundry folding. No one said much. Just tight lips and quick glances, like they didn’t even want to think about her.

“She was important,” one of them finally muttered under her breath. “Don’t go there.”

But I couldn’t help it. Curiosity was already chewing holes through my spine.

I cleaned his library again that morning, careful and slow, pretending not to peek at the shelf where her photo had once sat. It was gone now. Moved. Hidden. Like she’d never existed.

But her presence was still in that room.

In the scent of fading perfume on an armchair no one sat in.

In the deep scratches on the edge of the desk, as if fingers had once clutched too hard.

In the faint indentation on the rug where a second chair used to be.

Caelum wasn’t just hiding her memory—he was trying to bury it.

And I wanted to dig it up.

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The punishment started before I even knew I was being watched.

I spent the rest of the day wiping down windows that didn’t need cleaning and polishing antique tables that were already spotless. The head maid, Eda, followed me around like a shadow with teeth, correcting every move, every missed speck.

“Do it again,” she snapped when I dusted too quickly.

“Slow hands. Quiet steps. Do you even belong in a house like this?”

My fingers ached. My thighs were sore. But I didn’t complain.

Because I knew exactly what this was.

He knew I’d been in the forbidden room. He knew I was poking around in memories I had no right to touch. And this—this was the first layer of control.

Let her feel watched. Let her feel judged. Let her squirm.

Well, it worked.

By evening, I was drenched in sweat, my apron stained, and my patience fried. I snuck away toward the western corridor, hoping for five minutes to myself before dinner service.

That’s when I saw it—his office door slightly ajar.

Empty.

Temptation flicked its tail.

I didn’t think. I moved.

The room was colder than the rest of the house. Dimmer, too. The scent of cedar and leather wrapped around me as I stepped inside. His desk was lined with folders and silver pens. Nothing personal. No photos. No keepsakes.

Until I found the drawer.

Locked.

But not tightly.

I jiggled it. Paused.

Then pulled harder.

It popped open with a soft click.

Inside: a worn black notebook. Leather-bound. Edges frayed.

I flipped it open.

No name. No title.

Just… entries. Short. Disjointed. Some were notes on business deals, numbers and meetings. But others—

“She said she didn’t love me anymore. That I’d become a stranger in my own skin.”

“I told her to leave. She didn’t.”

“Blood on the marble. I didn’t move for hours.”

My heart slammed into my ribs.

This wasn’t just a journal.

This was grief.

Obsession.

Madness, maybe.

A creak behind me.

I spun, notebook still in hand.

And there he was.

Caelum.

Leaning against the doorway like a shadow sculpted in flesh. Shirt rolled at the sleeves. Collar open. His face unreadable.

I froze.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

The silence stretched long and taut.

“I wasn’t—” I began.

“Don’t lie.”

His voice was quiet. Dead calm. The kind of calm that came before lightning struck the ground.

My fingers trembled as I closed the notebook and set it back in the drawer.

“I just wanted to know who she was,” I whispered.

He stepped inside. Closed the door behind him with a click that felt final.

“She’s none of your concern.”

“She looked like me.”

“That’s not your concern either.”

I lifted my chin despite the tremor in my knees. “Why keep her photo where anyone can find it if you didn’t want questions?”

His eyes narrowed.

I should’ve shut up.

But I didn’t.

“I’m not her. But you bought me like I was. And now you want me silent, obedient, and blind? I don’t work like that.”

For a second, I swore I saw something flicker in his expression. Not anger. Something worse.

Approval.

He moved fast.

In three steps, he was behind me, gripping my wrist. Not harsh—but firm. Unyielding.

He pulled a silk tie from his pocket. I hadn’t even noticed it was there.

My breath caught.

“Hands behind your back.”

I hesitated.

Then obeyed.

The silk slid around my wrists, tight enough to hold but gentle enough to tease. My skin tingled with heat.

“I gave you rules,” he murmured, mouth near my ear. “You chose to disobey.”

I said nothing.

He pulled me closer by the tied wrists, until my back pressed against his chest. I felt the hard length of him through his slacks.

“I could bend you over this desk and make you beg.”

A shiver raced down my spine.

“But that would be a reward. And you don’t deserve that, do you?”

My throat dried.

“No,” I whispered.

“No what?”

“No, sir.”

The silk tightened slightly.

“Good girl.”

Then he walked me backward—slow, deliberate steps—until I stood in front of a tall leather chair in the corner. He pushed me down into it, wrists still bound.

“Stay.”

He walked away.

My thighs squeezed together.

He returned a moment later with a black scarf—satiny, smooth.

A blindfold.

He wrapped it around my eyes before I could object. My world vanished into darkness.

And then… nothing.

He didn’t touch me.

Didn’t speak.

I sat there, tied, blindfolded, aching.

Waiting.

My skin burned from the anticipation. My breathing turned ragged.

A soft exhale behind me.

Then a whisper in my ear: “You’re already unraveling.”

I whimpered.

He ran a single finger along the inside of my thigh—up, up—and stopped just before it mattered.

Then he pulled away.

Silence.

Torment.

Pleasure without satisfaction.

I hated him.

I wanted him.

And I knew he wouldn’t give in.

Not until I broke.

He left me there. Blind. Bound. Teased.

But untouched.

And worse… throbbing.

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End of Chapter Four