Her Obedience

Chapter One -- The Surprise

It was supposed to be a surprise.

I landed three hours before Ethan's flight. No delays, no traffic, not even a line at check-in. I remember thinking, Maybe this is a sign. Like the universe was finally cutting me a break for once. Letting me be the wife who shows up early, not the one always stuck on FaceTime at boarding gates.

The hotel wasn't what I expected.

I had asked Johnny--Ethan's work friend, the one who never stopped making jokes about being married too young--if he could help me book something special. "A suite," I'd said. "Something nicer than the usual box-with-a-minibar vibe."

He didn't ask questions. Just sent me the confirmation code.

No name. Just an address.

I stepped out of the black car and looked up.

The building didn't have a sign--just black glass and stone and a single gold spotlight pouring down from above like I was walking into a dream... or a trap. No doorman called my name. No front desk in sight. Just a door that opened before I even reached it.

A man stood there.

Tall. Broad. Sharply dressed in charcoal wool and leather gloves. His beard was trimmed to a perfect line, his gaze flat and unreadable.

"Claire Carter," he said. Not a question.

I froze. My bags were still in the trunk.

"Yes, but--"

"You're early," he said. "That's good. They've been expecting you."

Before I could respond, he turned and held the door open. I stepped through without thinking.

I shouldn't have.

The lobby glowed in gold and crimson. Marble underfoot. Velvet everywhere. Not a check-in desk--just a tall, stunning woman in a backless black dress with a key already in her hand.

"Welcome to the Grand Palace, Mrs. Carter. Room 718. A gift from your husband's associate."

"Johnny?" I asked.

She only smiled and handed me the key. Her nails were deep red. Her eyes darker.

"Your robe is laid out. Champagne is chilled. Please enjoy your stay."

The elevator was silent except for the soft chime of string music.

My room smelled like jasmine and something deeper--like wet silk. The bed was enormous, the mirror on the ceiling was... unexpected, and the robe was soft enough to make me forget every hotel I'd ever stayed in.

I texted Ethan.

I beat you here. Room 718. Can't wait to see you.

No reply. Probably still in the air.

I poured a glass of champagne.

Just one.

I didn't notice the camera in the corner. Or the way the room seemed to warm after every sip.

Or that my phone had just connected to a private network with no name.

Chapter Two -- The Bath & the Invitation (Updated Ending)

The bath was like nothing I'd ever felt.

Hot, but not scalding. Heavy with rose petals and perfumed oil that clung to my skin like silk. She knelt beside the tub and slowly poured a pitcher of water over my chest.

"Just breathe," she whispered. "That's all you have to do now."

I closed my eyes.

Let the water lap against my collarbones.

Let her hands trail over my shoulders.

Let my thighs drift open.

When I opened them again, she was already drying me with a warm towel. Slow. Reverent.

"Come," she said gently, taking my hand. "They're ready for you now."

"Who's they?"

She didn't answer.

She led me down the hall in nothing but the robe.

The massage room was candlelit and low-ceilinged. Warm. The table wasn't clinical--it was covered in crimson velvet and gold thread. A silk pillow where my head would rest. Stirrup-like loops on either end.

I paused.

"Is this... normal?"

"Here?" she said, smiling. "It's tradition."

She helped me onto my stomach, untied the robe, and pulled it from beneath me.

Naked again. Oiled. Exposed.

I didn't move.

She whispered in my ear.

"Color?"

"... Green," I breathed.

She kissed the back of my neck.

"Good girl."

Then came the rope.

Soft. Velvet-wrapped.

One loop around each wrist. Another around each ankle. Then my thighs--tight enough to hold them slightly apart.

I tensed.

"Shh," she said, stroking my hair. "You're safe. You're wanted."

A second pair of hands joined hers.

Then a third.

None of them spoke.

They massaged me in silence--fingertips and palms moving over my calves, thighs, hips, back, shoulders.

But this wasn't a massage.

It was mapping.

Claiming.

Every knot in my body melted beneath them.

Every inch of skin learned what it meant to be touched without being asked.

I should've felt afraid.

Instead, I wanted more.

After what felt like hours, I was untied and flipped over.

I didn't resist.

Hands spread my thighs again. One brushed between them--gently, lingering.

"You're ready," one of the women said softly.

Another lifted something from a velvet tray beside the table.

A ball gag. Red, round, gleaming.

"Open your mouth, Mrs. Carter," she whispered.

And I did.

The last thing I saw before the blindfold came down...

was the collar resting on a silk pillow.

Waiting.

Chapter Three -- The First Lesson

The blindfold was soft--velvet, like everything here.

But the moment it covered my eyes, the world sharpened.

Sound. Breath. Skin.

I was led somewhere. Barefoot. My arms draped loosely in someone's grip, like I wasn't expected to run.

Like they already knew I wouldn't.

When we stopped, I heard the door close behind me. Then footsteps circling. Then the voice:

"Welcome, Claire."

Tatiana.

Even without sight, I knew her voice.

Rich. Smooth. Absolute.

"Do you know why you're here?"

I opened my mouth to answer--but the ball gag was pushed between my lips before I could speak.

Strapped tight.

Tatiana stepped close.

"You're not here to explain," she whispered. "You're here to feel."

The rope came back. Fast this time.

Wrist to wrist. Ankle to ankle. Ankles hoisted onto the edge of a padded bench.

I was strung out--back arched, arms behind me, head hanging slightly down, breasts exposed and aching with cold.

Then came the whip.

Silk-wrapped, but still brutal.

She didn't count aloud. Didn't ask me to.

Just struck.

First across my thighs. Then my ass. Then between my legs--each crack landing with just enough force to remind me whose body this was now.

I drooled around the gag.

Moaned into it.

Not because I wanted her to stop--

But because I didn't want her to leave anything untouched.

The vibrator came next.

Slick. Slender. Powerful.

She pressed it against my clit and held it there--barely moving--while the whip struck again and again.

Every time the leather kissed my skin, my hips bucked forward into the buzz.

Every time the vibrator pushed harder, my throat choked around the gag.

"This is what you've been missing," she whispered behind me. "Not sex. Not love. Use."

I came once.

Hard.

The kind of orgasm that empties you.

She didn't stop.

The strap-on slid in like it already belonged inside me.

Thick. Hard. Ruthless.

Tatiana mounted me from behind, one hand gripping my hip, the other wrapped around the rope binding my wrists.

She fucked me like a punishment, slow and deep, vibrating toy still trapped between my thighs.

My moans turned animal.

My body folded around her thrusts like it had been waiting for this command all its life.

The whip landed again. My back. My shoulders. My cunt.

I screamed into the gag--but I didn't pull away.

I didn't want to be saved.

I wanted to be taken apart.

When she finally pulled out, my body was trembling. Legs spread wide. Drool dripping down my chin.

She removed the gag gently. Wiped my mouth with her thumb.

"Who owns this body now?" she asked.

I blinked up at her through the blindfold, voice raw and cracked.

"You do."

"Louder."

"You do, Mistress."

Tatiana kissed my forehead.

"You're ready for the collar."

Chapter Four -- The Ceremony

They untied me slowly.

No rush. No urgency.

Just reverence.

Like I was something sacred now--an altar, not a woman.

The blindfold slipped away. The light was dim, flickering candlelight across the velvet walls. Tatiana stood before me in red silk, one hand holding a black leather collar with a gold O-ring at the throat.

"Kneel."

I obeyed.

She fastened the collar around my neck. Pulled my hair back gently. Clicked the leash into place.

"You are no longer Claire Carter," she said. "You are not wife, not guest, not good girl."

"You are property."

I trembled.

Not with fear.

With need.

They entered the room in silence.

Kayta. Anya. Katia. Katrina. Anastasia.

All of them dressed like predators in fur and leather, heels clicking like metronomes of desire.

Kayta licked her lips when she saw me.

"Look at her," she purred. "Already dripping."

Katia ran a gloved hand between my thighs.

"Soaked. Obedience suits her."

Anya held up a ball gag. This one was white, not red.

"Let's see how well she performs when she can't hide behind words."

Tatiana nodded once.

The gag slid back into my mouth, locking me into silence.

The leash was handed off.

They moved around me like a pack--taking turns touching, binding, using.

Katrina cuffed my wrists behind my back.

Anastasia looped rope around my waist and thighs, pulling me into forced presentation.

Kayta mounted my face, her thighs gripping, cunt slick and commanding, her hands in my hair as I moaned and gasped beneath her.

Katia slid a vibrator inside me and held it there with one gloved palm, whispering filth in my ear while her teeth grazed my shoulder.

Anya flogged my back in steady, rhythmic arcs--each lash timed with a moan, a thrust, a whimper.

I lost track of where one woman ended and another began.

My body was no longer mine.

It was theirs to use.

And I loved it.

Tatiana watched from her chair, stroking the leash like it was a ribbon of fate.

"You've craved this," she said softly, "even when you didn't have the language for it."

She stood. Walked to the foot of the bed. Slipped on a strap-on glistening with lube and menace.

"Now you'll be filled with something that can't be ignored."

Kayta dismounted. My body was lifted, spread, held in place by four pairs of hands.

Tatiana slid inside me with one powerful stroke--no resistance, no mercy.

The gag caught my scream.

My back arched. My hips bucked.

The vibrator still buzzed deep inside me, adding pressure, confusion, overwhelm.

Anastasia whispered in my ear:

"You're going to cum for all of us."

She was right.

They took turns after that.

Tatiana.

Then Katia.

Then Anya.

Each woman used me. Each woman made me beg in ways I never knew I could--with my eyes, my breath, my trembling thighs.

I came until I was raw, wrecked, grateful.

By the time Tatiana pulled the gag free, I was sobbing into the sheets, whispering:

"Thank you. Thank you. Please... more."

Tatiana pulled me to her lap like a prize.

Kayta knelt beside me and kissed the edge of my collar.

"Tomorrow," she said, "you'll hear your husband across the hall."

"You'll recognize his voice."

"And you'll realize..."

Anya kissed the other side of my neck.

"He's about to learn what you already know."

"How to be broken properly."

Chapter Five -- The Feast

I wasn't told to kneel.

I did it on my own.

The floor was warm. Velvet-cushioned. A long, low table stretched before me, lit by gold candelabras and surrounded by silk pillows instead of chairs.

They called it a feast, but no food had been served.

Not yet.

Just the women.

Each of them draped in fur, lace, or nothing at all--legs crossed, hands resting on thighs, eyes drinking me in like wine.

Tatiana stood at the head of the table.

"Tonight," she said, "you learn to give."

"Tonight, you serve."

She snapped her fingers.

"Crawl."

I moved on hands and knees across the red carpet.

Every pair of eyes followed.

The leash clipped to my collar trailed behind me. My mouth was bare--no gag this time. They wanted me available.

At the center of the table, Kayta leaned back on a velvet pillow, legs parted, lips wet, eyes sharp.

"Here," she said. "Start here."

"With me."

I hesitated.

Not out of fear.

Out of reverence.

Her scent hit first--sweet, rich, intoxicating. Her thighs opened wider. A hand in my hair guided me down.

"No teeth," she whispered. "Just worship."

I had never done it before.

But instinct overruled technique.

I kissed slowly--soft, experimental. Her skin was hot. Her folds slick. My tongue trembled at first, then found rhythm.

Lick.

Flick.

Circle.

"There you go," Kayta moaned. "Good girl."

Anya came behind me and spread my thighs. Her fingers slid in--two, slow, deep. A reward for service.

"Keep your tongue busy," she murmured, curling her fingers just right. "Earn this."

I moaned into Kayta's pussy, my mouth wetter than my own cunt. My tongue pushed deeper, desperate, eager. Kayta bucked into my face.

"Faster."

"Messier."

"Forget your name."

I obeyed.

Kayta came with a shiver and a curse, thighs locking around my head. She didn't praise me. She just pushed me to the next woman.

Katia.

Then Anastasia.

Each one tasted different.

Each one demanded differently.

"Use your fingers too."

"Hold my thighs open."

"Make me beg."

By the time I reached Tatiana, my mouth was swollen, my face soaked, my knees trembling.

She didn't lie back.

She stood.

And pulled me up by the leash.

"You've tasted us," she said. "Now tell me what you are."

I didn't hesitate.

"Yours."

"Say it again."

"I am yours, Mistress."

"And what do we do with what is ours?"

She pulled me into her arms.

"We feed it. We use it. We share it."

Chapter Six -- His Whore

They didn't let me see him right away.

First, they made me hear him.

Every moan.

Every muffled grunt.

Every slap of skin from across the hall.

I knelt in the dark of Room 718, naked, plugged, collared, and gagged--listening.

Anya sat beside me, stroking my hair like I was a dog in training.

"That's your husband," she whispered. "You hear how they fuck him?"

I nodded.

"Do you hear how he moans for Kayta?"

Another nod.

"He thinks this is the wildest night of his life."

She leaned down, teeth grazing my ear.

"He doesn't know what we've made you into yet."

After hours--long after the last woman came screaming over his face--they brought me in.

Room 717 was still warm.

Still smelled like sex and champagne.

Ethan was tied to the bed, panting, still half-hard, eyes unfocused.

Tatiana leaned over him and kissed his temple.

"She's ready."

Then she called:

"Bring her in."

I crawled on all fours.

Leashed.

Collared.

Smiling.

His eyes widened.

"Claire...?"

I didn't speak.

I just knelt at the foot of the bed and lowered my head.

Tatiana unhooked the leash and stepped back.

"She belongs to you now. Use her however you want."

"Or don't."

"But know this--she was trained for you."

Ethan's voice cracked.

"What... what does that mean?"

I looked up at him.

Eyes full of obedience.

And pride.

Then I crawled between his legs.

I sucked him like I was starving.

No shame.

No hesitation.

The same tongue that had pleased five other women now wrapped around his cock like it was salvation.

And it was.

Because this was mine.

He was mine.

And I was his.

He came with a cry that echoed off the velvet walls.

I didn't stop.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't ask for praise.

I just licked him clean, nuzzled his thigh, and whispered--

"I'm yours, Ethan.

They trained me to be your whore.

And now I'm ready to serve."

Chapter Nine -- The Full Makeover

We thought we were done.

After the training. The submission. The fucking.

After I was used in front of Ethan and he was used behind me, after we both screamed and begged and thanked--

We thought that was the final act.

But the Palace wasn't finished.

Not until we were repackaged.

Not until we could walk out as the perfected versions of who we now were:

His personal whore.

Their proud creation.

A kept thing made to be kept beautiful.

They separated us again.

He was taken to one chamber. I was led to another--deeper, warmer, lined with velvet and lit by flickering gold.

Anastasia stood beside a padded table, holding a bowl of warm water and a straight razor.

Kayta laid out brushes, lipsticks, powders, and glosses.

Anya opened a case that gleamed with metal and leather: plugs, clamps, nipple chains, jeweled cuffs, and collars.

They didn't speak.

They just began.

They shaved me smooth.

Everywhere. Every inch. Every secret place.

They oiled my skin until it shined under candlelight.

They rouged my nipples and powdered my cheeks. Dark eyes. Crimson lips.

They lifted and cupped my Double D tits with precision--tinting, teasing, making them stand proud, bare and soft and ready to bounce.

Kayta smiled at her own work and whispered:

"That's what men dream of--

And what we train."

They dressed me in nothing at all.

No panties. No bra.

Only the accessories that mattered.

A black jeweled plug slid between my cheeks, holding my body open and obedient.

A leather collar snapped around my throat, O-ring centered, tight and final.

A gold tag engraved with Property of Mr. Carter hung just above my breasts.

Then the heels--six-inch Adore-709s, patent black, forcing my stride into a slow, performative strut.

And finally, the black fur coat--plush, oversized, completely open, revealing every inch of what they'd made me into.

I looked in the mirror.

And smiled.

Across the hall, they dressed him.

Slick black shirt. No undershirt. Sleeves rolled. Cock half-hard, no underwear.

His new ring: matte black metal.

Inside engraving: Master of One.

They oiled his chest. Marked his neck with lipstick. Told him nothing.

Just made him wait.

When the doors opened, I walked in first.

He saw the heels before anything else.

Then the coat.

Then the collar.

Then my tits, swaying gently with each slow step, nipples stiff and rouged, begging to be touched.

He didn't speak.

He just sat on the edge of the bed and stared.

Tatiana stood behind him and said:

"She is no longer yours to hide.

She is yours to show."

I dropped the leash at his feet.

Then I sank to my knees.

"Command me."

And he did.

Chapter Nine -- The Full Makeover

Her Obedience, Book Two

Claire's POV

Part I -- The Unraveling

I didn't know they'd undress me first.

I thought they'd adjust me.

Touch up my makeup, fix my hair, hand me the robe and heels.

But when the door closed, Kayta took my phone. Anastasia opened a jar of oil. Anya unbelted my robe.

No words.

Just hands.

The fur coat slipped off my shoulders.

The robe dropped next.

My bra unclasped with practiced ease.

Naked.

Before strangers.

But I didn't flinch. I didn't cover myself.

Because they weren't looking at me like prey.

They were looking at me like clay.

"She's soft," Anastasia said, running fingers up my side.

"Perfect," Kayta murmured. "She'll stretch beautifully."

They waxed me.

Smooth. Clean. Completely bare.

I gasped when the strip came off--but Anya was already there, lips near my ear, whispering:

"Pain is part of becoming."

She rubbed aloe into my skin, her fingers slow.

Not professional. Intimate.

Her thumb brushed just above my clit.

Not a mistake.

My hips jerked--just barely.

Anya smiled. Said nothing.

But something shifted in me.

They painted me next.

Rouged my nipples. Darkened my lips.

Oiled my skin until it shimmered like a statue meant to be unwrapped.

When Anya lifted my breasts and said, "These are generous," I felt a heat I hadn't named before.

It wasn't embarrassment.

It was hunger.

Part II -- The Submission

Anastasia held up the jewel plug like a gift.

Kayta spread oil along my ass with slow, firm strokes.

Anya whispered:

"Breathe in."

I did.

She slid it in with one perfect motion.

"Breathe out."

I exhaled.

And moaned.

They buckled on the collar last.

Black leather. Gold ring. Tag engraved.

Property of Mr. Carter

Anya clipped the leash to the ring and let it dangle between my breasts.

Then she leaned in and kissed my collarbone.

"He thinks this place made you his."

She looked up at me.

"But we both know who taught you how to beg."

Part III -- The Walk

They dressed me in nothing but:

The Adore-709s (heels so high my thighs shook)

A black fur coat, open wide, brushing against oiled skin

My bare breasts, flushed and proud

The plug, shifting with every step

The collar, locked, the tag glinting

And my own leash, coiled neatly in my palm

No mirror.

No more instructions.

Only the door.

And behind it?

Him.

Part IV -- The Return

Ethan was standing when I entered.

Not confidently. Not untouched.

His shirt was wrinkled. His neck bore a red smudge.

His hair was messy in the wrong way.

Like someone else had pulled it.

He looked at me like he couldn't breathe.

But I saw the shift behind his eyes.

Regret. Guilt. Awe. Need.

"Say it," I whispered, handing him the leash.

"Command me."

He took it like it burned.

Like it had been replaced, then returned.

I stepped closer. Brushed his cheek with mine. Inhaled.

Perfume. Sweat.

Lipstick that wasn't mine.

Part V -- The Departure

We walked out in silence.

The doorman didn't blink.

The desk girl smiled knowingly.

Ethan opened the car door for me, but didn't sit too close on the ride.

He was quiet.

Still.

Still hard, I suspected.

Still haunted.

I pressed my thighs together as the plug shifted again.

I couldn't stop thinking about Anya's fingers.

Her mouth.

The way she touched me like I was hers.

The way I wanted to be.

As the skyline disappeared behind us, I finally spoke:

"Tatiana marked you."

His silence was answer enough.

I turned my head. Kissed his neck, just above the stain.

"Next time... I want her to mark me too."

He turned to look at me, eyes wide.

I smiled.

"And you're going to watch."

6:03 AM -- The Ride to the Airport

Neither of us said much.

The driver didn't ask questions.

The sun hadn't risen yet, and the city passed by in that strange, suspended quiet--like even the streetlights were too stunned to blink.

I kept my coat closed.

But not buttoned.

No bra underneath.

Just bare, warm skin.

And the collar.

Still on.

Still locked.

Ethan's hand rested on my thigh the entire ride.

Not possessive.

More like... reverent.

Like he still wasn't sure I was real.

Or maybe he wasn't sure he deserved to touch me after what happened in Room 717.

I didn't ask him about the lipstick on his collar.

I didn't need to.

But I saw the way he shivered when the driver hit a bump and the plug inside me shifted.

He knew.

9:12 AM -- The Airport Restroom

He didn't follow me in.

He waited outside, jaw tight, scrolling his phone like it might distract him from the ache in his pants.

I leaned over the sink, stared at my reflection, and ran my fingers along the edge of the collar.

The tag still read:

Property of Mr. Carter.

But it wasn't entirely true anymore.

Because now?

I belonged to the memory.

To her.

I touched my lips.

Still raw from Anya's kisses.

Still painted in obedience.

I reached between my legs and tugged at the jeweled plug just slightly--just enough to make myself whimper. Then fixed my lipstick.

1:36 PM -- Home

The house looked the same.

The hallway. The stairs.

Even the air smelled the way I left it.

But I wasn't the same girl who unpacked her carry-on three days ago.

I didn't unpack this time.

I stripped.

Left the fur coat on the floor.

Kept the heels on.

I stood in our bedroom--bare, plugged, collared.

And I waited.

Ethan came in behind me.

Didn't speak.

He dropped his bags. Closed the door.

I could feel him looking.

I heard his belt unbuckle.

He didn't ask if he could.

He bent me over the foot of the bed and fucked me without a word.

Just skin. Just need. Just the sound of my heels digging into the floor and his breath breaking against my back.

The leash dangled beside me.

I didn't offer it.

He didn't need it.

Not this time.

Later

I fell asleep with his hand between my legs.

His thumb resting on the jeweled plug like it belonged to him.

Like he was keeping me in place.

The Text

It came the next morning.

Ethan was in the shower.

I was curled in his shirt, collar still tight.

His phone lit up beside me.

Tatiana:

You're both glowing. I can smell it from here.

Don't forget your homework.

I'll be visiting soon.

Tell her to practice crawling. And not to flinch when I spit in her mouth.

No emojis. No signature.

Just truth.

I smiled.

And texted back.

She's ready.

I'll make sure she remembers who taught her to beg.