Obey Me in Room 406 - 4

I wake up to the scent of him.

Not just his skin. But his sheets, his shirt wrapped around my body, his cum still seeping down my thighs.

My pussy aches—used, pulsing with memory.

He’s already up.

I hear the shower running and my pulse quickens.

I should leave. I should get dressed, walk out, and never look back.

But I don’t.

Instead, I rise from the bed and follow the sound of water like a moth to flame.

The bathroom door is open. Steam spills out in curls.

He stands under the spray, facing away, water running down every inch of his muscled back.

I don’t announce myself.

I step in.

Naked. Quiet.

My hands slide around his waist.

He doesn’t flinch.

“I was wondering when you’d crawl back.”

His voice is deep and sharp, like velvet laced with blades.

“You made me ache,” I whisper.

He turns.

Water slicks his dark hair back. His jaw is sharp, his lips slightly parted, his eyes locked on mine like I’m a prize he hasn’t finished breaking yet.

“You liked being denied, didn’t you?”

I nod.

“Say it.”

“I loved being teased. In public. Controlled.”

“You’re filth.”

“And you make me worse.”

He slams me against the shower wall with one hand around my throat, just enough pressure to thrill but not bruise.

“Beg me to use you.”

I shiver.

“Please. Fuck me. Punish me. Break me if you want to.”

His growl vibrates against my skin.

He drops to his knees and licks me.

Rough and fast.

No buildup. No mercy.

His tongue flicks over my clit in tight, punishing circles, then plunges deep into my core.

I cry out, the sound bouncing off the tiles.

My hands claw into his hair.

“You’re already soaked,” he mutters, voice muffled against my pussy. “You were dreaming about me, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I pant. “I woke up wet.”

“You’re always wet for me.”

His hands spread my thighs wider, lifting one leg over his shoulder as he buries himself deeper.

Every lick is brutal.

Fast. Desperate. Addictive.

I come in seconds.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, licking through the aftershocks, driving me straight into another.

I scream his name, hips jerking, toes curling on the wet tiles.

He finally stands. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then slaps my ass hard.

Once. Twice.

I whimper and fall into his chest.

“I’m not done with you.”

He doesn’t take me to the bed this time.

He takes me to the full-length mirror on the closet door.

Bends me over the dresser. Forces me to watch.

“Look at yourself.”

My reflection stares back—flushed, lips parted, collar snug around my throat like a neon sign screaming ‘owned’.

He rubs the head of his cock against my slit.

“You know what I see?” he asks.

I swallow.

“What?”

“A dirty little slut who begged to be filled in public and loved every fucking second of it.”

He thrusts deep inside me.

I moan, watching my reflection tremble.

He grabs my hair, forces me to keep my eyes open.

“Don’t look away.”

I don’t.

Even when he pounds into me harder than he ever has.

Even when he slaps my breast, then grips my throat, fingers digging in possessively.

Even when he talks—filthy, dominant, raw.

“You wanted punishment?”

“Yes.”

“You want to be used?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll never be able to fuck anyone else again. You’ll ruin yourself for every man who isn’t me.”

“I already am.”

He loses it then.

Slams into me with such force the dresser rocks against the wall.

My orgasm is messy, loud, and long.

He doesn’t pull out.

He spills deep inside me, still gripping my throat as his eyes stay locked on my reflection.

“Mine,” he growls.

We lie tangled on the floor afterward.

Naked. Sweaty.

He drapes one arm over my waist. The other trails fingers lazily up and down my back.

“I should leave,” I whisper.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know who I’m becoming with you.”

“You’re becoming honest.”

I turn my head to look at him.

“I don’t do relationships.”

“Good,” he says without missing a beat. “Because this isn’t one.”

“Oh?”

“This is ownership.”

I shiver.

“You’re serious.”

“I told you what I want. You obey. You come. You beg. That’s the deal.”

“No feelings?”

“None.”

My chest twists. But it’s exactly what I told myself I wanted too.

So why does his detachment sting?

Later that night, he tells me not to come back for three days.

A rule. A test, of course.

“Keep the collar on,” he says. “Sleep in it. Touch yourself if you want, but you don’t get to come unless I give permission.”

“And if I do?”

“I’ll know.”

“You can’t possibly—”

“I’ll know.”

I nod.

He kisses me. But it’s not tender.

It’s a warning.

Three days later, I’m back in Room 406.

Panting. Desperate.

I didn’t last more than twenty-four hours without touching myself.

And I came. Twice.

I’m ashamed of how easily I gave in. How needy I became.

When he opens the door, I drop to my knees without a word.

He looks down at me coldly.

“You disobeyed.”

“Yes.”

“You came without permission.”

I nod.

“Twice,” I admit.

His jaw tightens.

“I warned you.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, lowering my eyes.

He steps aside.

“Get in.”

The punishment starts the second the door shuts.

He grabs a black silk scarf from the drawer and blindfolds me then cuffs my wrists behind my back.

I hear him circling me. Hear drawers open and close.

I don’t know what he’s going to do and I love that.

He pushes me onto the bed.

“Face down.”

I comply, ass up, thighs spread. I feel cool air as he parts me.

Then…

Crack.

A crop lashes across my left cheek.

I cry out.

Crack.

Right side.

He doesn’t stop until I’m trembling—my skin hot and stinging, my pussy dripping and twitching.

He leans down.

“Are you going to come without permission again?”

“No.”

“Are you mine?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours, sir.”

He removes the blindfold.

And finally—finally—he fucks me.

No games. No teasing.

Just raw, punishing thrusts that fuck the lesson deep into my bones.

I scream with every stroke.

Begging. Crying. Cuming until I forget my own name.

He finishes inside me again, lips pressed against the back of my neck.

“You learn fast,” he murmurs.

I smile through the haze.

“I aim to please.”

He kisses the side of my face.

“You do.”