Chapter 2 Obey Me In Room 406 - 2

• Chapter 2 - Use Me Again
• 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.”