Obey Me in Room 406 - 2

I shouldn’t have come back. But I couldn’t stay away.

All day, I tried to shake it off. Tried to tell myself it was a one-time thing. A mistake. A beautiful, filthy mistake.

But my body didn’t forget.

Not the sting of his hand.

Not the way my legs trembled when I came screaming into the mattress, his name never even spoken.

Not the way he looked at me like I belonged to him—like I’d always belonged to him.

And now I’m here. Standing outside Room 406 again.

No text this time. No invitation. I just came because I wanted to be used.

And when I raise my hand to knock, the door opens before I can touch it.

He’s already waiting.

Still dressed in black. Still calm, composed, controlled.

His eyes flick down my body.

I didn’t wear anything beneath the trench coat.

He knows.

“Take it off,” he says.

I do.

He lets the coat fall to the floor behind me, eyes hungry, fingers flexing.

“You came back.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

He smiles, but it’s the dangerous kind. Slow. Knowing.

“You’re mine tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it louder.”

“I’m yours tonight.”

“No.” He steps closer, towering over me. “You’re mine. Period.”

I nod, breath hitching. “I’m yours.”

“Good girl.”

He walks behind me, and I feel the warmth of his body before his hand slides around my throat.

He doesn’t squeeze. Just holds it.

“You don’t get to leave early this time,” he murmurs against my ear.

“I won’t.”

“No safe words. You want to stop, you say red. Until then—” he presses harder, “—you’re mine to use.”

My pussy clenches.

“Yes, sir.”

He spins me around, pushes me to the bed, and doesn’t give me time to think.

He binds my wrists.

Not with rope.

With his tie.

Silk. Black. Tight enough to make me feel helpless, but not enough to hurt.

“You were so eager last night,” he says, voice calm as he knots it to the headboard. “Tonight, we see how eager you are when you can’t touch.”

I writhe beneath him, spread wide and exposed.

He stands beside the bed and slowly unbuttons his shirt.

My mouth waters. His chest is hard, cut, dusted with just enough hair to make my fingers itch.

But I can’t move. Can’t touch. Just lie there like the needy little whore I’ve become in less than twenty-four hours.

He sees it on my face. The desperation. The surrender.

“You liked being used,” he says. “Now I’ll make you crave it.”

He kneels between my legs and lowers his mouth to my inner thigh.

Kisses. Bites.

“Please,” I beg, hips rising. “Please, I need—”

“Need what?”

“Your mouth. Your tongue. I need to come.”

“You’ll come when I say.”

Then he finally licks me. Long, slow, right up the center of my slit.

I cry out, hips bucking, but his hands grip my thighs, pinning me down.

He eats me like I’m his meal. Like I’m the only thing on the menu.

Tongue deep. Then flicking. Then sucking hard on my clit until my vision blurs.

I pant. Arch. Scream his name—no, not his name, because I still don’t know it.

Just sir.

Just the man who makes me forget who I am.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasp.

“No.”

He pulls back.

“Not yet.”

My head thrashes. I’m shaking, soaked, pulsing.

“I said not yet.”

Then he moves.

One swift thrust, and he’s inside me again. Fucking me rough, deep, perfect.

The tie digs into my wrists as I pull against it, lost in the rhythm of his body taking mine. He grinds into me, cock thick and punishing, chest heaving above mine.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I gasp.

He slaps my breast, just enough sting to make me moan.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours!”

He fucks me harder.

“You don’t come without permission. You don’t speak unless ordered. You don’t move unless I make you.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Whose hole is this?”

“Yours.”

“Whose mouth?”

“Yours!”

He stops suddenly, still buried deep.

I whimper, desperate for friction.

“Beg.”

“Please,” I whine. “Please use me. I need to come. I need you to fill me. Please, I can’t take it—”

He pulls out.

I cry out.

Then I hear the nightstand drawer open.

And something cold presses to my entrance.

A toy. A plug to be exact.

“Relax,” he orders. “This is mine too.”

The plug slides in slowly, and I moan at the stretch. At the fullness. He takes his time, fingers slick and skilled.

When it’s seated deep, he smacks my ass.

“You’re ready.”

I feel him push into me again, this time with the plug inside me too, making everything tighter, fuller, filthier.

I scream.

He pounds harder. Deeper.

“You love being my toy,” he growls.

“Yes, sir!”

“You love not knowing what I’ll do next.”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to come now. On my cock. With your ass full and your wrists tied.”

I explode.

Screaming. Trembling. Clenching around him so hard he curses through gritted teeth and spills inside me.

The bed shakes with the force of it.

We collapse again, panting, covered in sweat, and I realize my thighs are sticky with more than just his cum.

My own. So much of it.

He unties my wrists carefully, rubbing them where the silk pressed.

I lie there dazed, ruined, utterly satisfied.

But he’s not done.

He kneels beside the bed, one hand gripping my jaw.

“You’re not leaving.”

I blink up at him. “I wasn’t going to.”

“I don’t just fuck.”

My breath catches.

“I train.”

“What… what does that mean?”

His smile is slow. Dangerous.

“You want to be used?”

I nod.

“You want to be owned?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you come back tomorrow.”

His mouth brushes my ear.

“And next time… we play with toys.”