Chapter 1 Obey Me In Room 406 - 1

• PROLOGUE
• All I wanted was a weekend away. No exes. No stress. Just me, a vibrator, and the quiet luxury of the Hotel Aurelia.
• Then I got the text.
• Room 406. Strip. Kneel. Don’t speak unless told.
• It wasn’t meant for me. But I went anyway.
• And when I opened the door, he didn’t ask questions. He just gave orders.
• Rough hands. Quiet voice. And a mouth that ruined me for every man who ever tried.
• He didn’t give me his name. Didn’t ask for mine.
• And when I told him I wasn’t who he was expecting—he smiled.
• And said, “You are now.”
• What started as a mistake becomes a weekend of obedience, bruises, and bliss.
• But this stranger wants more than my body. He wants my control.
• And I… want to give it to him.
• ***
• Chapter 1 - The Wrong Text
• There’s something about a hotel bed that always makes me want to misbehave.
• Maybe it’s the way the sheets are tucked too tight, how the pillows smell like bleach and strangers. Maybe it’s the freedom of knowing I’m anonymous in a luxury building full of men in suits who wouldn’t dare look twice at a woman traveling alone.
• But tonight, it’s the text.
• I’m two sips into overpriced wine, legs bare under my robe, vibrator already charging on the nightstand, when my phone buzzes.
• Room 406. Strip. Kneel. Don’t speak unless told.
• That’s it. No name. No emojis. No apologies.
• I reread it three times, sure it must be a mistake.
• But my thighs press together.
• Whoever it was meant for… is lucky.
• I reach for the wine again, trying to ignore the heat between my legs—but the thought takes root.
• Strip. Kneel.
• Would I? Could I?
• The soft hum of city noise outside my window fades. The room feels smaller. My robe slips open as I shift on the bed, and my nipples harden in the cool air. I stare at the phone screen again, at the bold confidence of that message.
• It wasn’t meant for me.
• But maybe I want it to be.
• I don’t overthink it.
• I don’t even hesitate.
• I pull the robe from my shoulders, letting it drop into a puddle on the floor. My bare feet slap softly on the marble tile as I cross to the mirror. My pulse is already thudding low in my belly, and my fingers tremble as I pick up my key card.
• I’m not drunk. I’m not high.
• I’m wet. Curious.
• And completely out of my fucking mind.
• But when I step into the hallway and the elevator dings, I don’t look back.
• Room 406 is halfway down a dimly lit corridor. Clean carpets. Quiet.
• My heart’s racing as I reach the door.
• This is insane.
• What if it’s a setup? What if someone’s playing with me? What if I knock, and some middle-aged businessman in tighty-whities screams and slams the door in my face?
• But worse than that…
• What if it is real?
• I don’t knock.
• I press my palm flat to the door, lean in, and breathe.
• Then I slide the card in the lock, and the green light flashes.
• The door opens.
• The room is mostly dark—just the lamp by the bed casting a low amber glow. And there he is.
• A man, tall and dressed in black, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sitting in a chair by the window like he’s been waiting. Legs spread. A glass of whiskey in one hand, phone in the other.
• He looks up.
• And smiles.
• Not surprised. Not confused.
• Like he knew I’d come.
• “You’re late,” he says. His voice is low, rough. The kind of voice you want against your throat while his hand is between your legs.
• My mouth parts, but I can’t form a sentence. My whole body is already buzzing, nipples tight, skin hot.
• He sets the drink down and stands slowly.
• “Clothes off. Kneel.”
• It’s not a question. It’s a command.
• And I obey.
• The carpet burns my knees a little, but I barely notice. I strip without hesitation, pulling the tank top over my head and stepping out of my panties. I leave them in a soft puddle at my feet and lower myself down. Exposed. Open.
• He circles me slowly. Like a predator. Like I’m already prey.
• I don’t know his name. I can’t see his face clearly in the low light.
• But I don’t need to.
• He stops behind me. I can feel his presence like heat against my skin.
• A large hand slides down my spine. “No bra.”
• “No.”
• “Smart girl.”
• His hand drifts lower, settling at the base of my spine. He presses, and I arch instinctively.
• “Do you know what I do to bad girls who read texts that don’t belong to them?”
• I freeze.
• Oh God.
• He knows.
• “You knew?” I whisper, panicked.
• He chuckles. “You hesitated just long enough. The woman I was meeting would’ve walked in here with her mouth open and her ass ready.”
• Shame and heat burn up my neck. “I’m sorry. I—I’ll go—”
• “No.” He grips my neck lightly. “You stay.”
• My breath catches.
• His fingers flex. “You were curious. Now you get to find out what happens to greedy little sluts who can’t follow instructions.”
• Oh fuck.
• He steps in front of me, unzipping his slacks with slow, deliberate precision. My mouth waters.
• “You like being told what to do?”
• I nod.
• He tilts his head. “Use your words.”
• “Yes,” I breathe.
• “Yes what?”
• “Yes, sir.”
• His cock is already hard when he pulls it out. Thick. Smooth. Veins prominent. I lick my lips, and he laughs softly.
• “Hungry?”
• “Yes, sir.”
• He takes a step closer, rubbing the tip along my lips. “No hands. Keep them behind your back.”
• I obey instantly, fingers laced behind me.
• “Open your mouth.”
• I do.
• He slides in slowly, letting me feel every inch. My lips stretch, and I moan as his taste floods my tongue—dark, clean, masculine. I suck greedily, letting him set the pace, bobbing my head as he thrusts deeper.
• “Fuck,” he growls. “You’re better than she was anyway.”
• My eyes water, but I don’t stop. I love the feel of him in my mouth, the weight, the control.
• He pulls out suddenly, and I gasp for air, spit trailing down my chin.
• “Up.”
• I scramble to my feet.
• “Turn around. Bend over the bed.”
• My knees shake, but I do as I’m told. The sheets are cool under my breasts. My ass is exposed, bare and ready.
• Then—smack.
• His palm lands sharp across one cheek. I cry out, the pain shocking but delicious.
• “Count.”
• “O-one.”
• Smack.
• “Two.”
• He alternates cheeks, delivering five perfect slaps. My skin burns, and my pussy drips. I’m dizzy from arousal.
• “You disobeyed,” he says. “But you took your punishment well.”
• Then I feel him—his cock, thick and hot, nudging between my folds.
• “Beg.”
• “Please, sir,” I pant. “Fuck me. Please.”
• He slams into me without warning, and I scream into the bed. He’s huge, and he doesn’t hold back.
• He fucks like he owns me.
• Like he wants to punish me with pleasure.
• Each thrust is brutal, precise, dragging cries from my throat.
• “You like being used, don’t you?”
• “Yes, sir.”
• “Say it.”
• “I love being used.”
• “Whose slut are you?”
• “Yours.”
• He groans, grabbing my hair, pulling me back against him as he pounds deeper. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, wet and obscene. My orgasm builds like a storm, fast and dangerous.
• “Come for me.”
• He reaches around, fingers rubbing my clit in tight circles. I shatter.
• Screaming. Clenching. Shaking.
• My vision goes white.
• He grunts behind me, thrusts once more, and spills inside me, hot and pulsing.
• We collapse forward onto the bed, sweaty and breathless.
• I don’t even know his name.
• But as he leans down and presses a kiss to my spine, he murmurs, “You did better than expected.”
• I swallow.
• “What happens now?” I ask softly.
• He chuckles again.
• “You come back tomorrow.”
• Then he smacks my ass.
• “Same time. Room 406.”