Room 2.75"

Disclaimer: All characters depicted in this story are fictional and are 18 years of age or older. This content is intended for mature audiences only. The story is set in 1950s New York and focuses on SPH and ass worship themes.

Room 2.75"

Harry adjusted the cuff of his shirt, squinting into the golden light spilling through the high windows of the St. Avalon Hotel. Down below the bustling New York throngs were getting ready for Christmas. Everything in the suite glowed--brass handles, thick cream curtains, even the ridiculously polished marble floor in the bathroom. A classic late 50's look. He had his shirt on and his boxers half way up when.....

"Morning housekeeping!"

He turned just as the maid stepped inside.

"Oh--! I thought--" she stopped mid-step, taking in the scene. "Well. I'm very small... I mean sorry"

Harry haphazardly pulled up his boxers, flushing a shade that clashed with the hotel's tasteful beige walls. "I thought I had the 'Do Not Disturb' on the door."

"You did?" she said, walking in anyway. "I think you may have put it the wrong way"

She was young, maybe in her mid-twenties, with chestnut hair pinned back in a bun far too neat for her sly smile. Her uniform was crisp, but her posture wasn't. She leaned slightly on one hip, giving him a once-over that wasn't exactly subtle.

Harry stood awkwardly, the edge of his shirt didn't cover him. He sat down fast on the edge of the bed.

"Can I just--uh--can you come back later?"

"Oh, I don't mind," she said sweetly, setting her cleaning caddy down. "I've seen worse, believe me." Then her gaze paused, just for a second, on his groin. "Are you hard?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Right there." She pointed at the small tent in his boxers "Your small penis, teeny tiny. You're pitching a very pathetic tent."

He looked down. "Oh. Yeah, I'm sorry - I was....."

"Well, lucky me. I get to be the dick police" she teased, then added with a grin, "It's sort of... charming, in a weird way."

Harry pulled his shirt down further. "That's not a word I've ever heard used for it before"

"Then you've been hanging around the wrong people." She stepped closer and gave a little mock-wince. "It is very small though. Practically microscopic."

Harry sighed, "I know"

A smirk curled on her lips. She turned away just enough to give him a break, fiddling with one of the gleaming gold curtain cords like it was the most fascinating object in the room.

"You're not used to this, are you?" she said over her shoulder.

"What?"

"Being teased by the help. Having your dinky-winky mocked by a sexy maid"

Nancy tilted her head, tapping the dusting cloth against her palm. "You're wound tighter than these curtain cords, Harry." She said his name like she was testing it for flaws. "Five-star guests need to unwind...... we both know you want to jerk your tiny cock for me"

Harry shuddered, rolling his shoulders. "Fuck - not now. Please. I have a meeting."

Her fingertip traced the edge of his collar, feather-light. "Look at you," she murmured. "All that noble resistance... and your hands are shaking."

They were. He curled them into fists, but it was too late--she'd seen.

"Just--" His voice came out rough. "Just do it, then."

Nancy's smile was slow, victorious. "Oh, I will." She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear.

"But first, say it."

"Say what?"

"That you want me to."

A beat. Then, through gritted teeth: "... I want you to."

"Good boy."

Nancy got on her knees in front of Harry. She grabbed his penis, holding it delicately between two fingers--her expression dead serious.

"Well," she murmured, narrowing her eyes as if deep in thought. "Your little penis will never be able to satisfy a woman like me - you wouldn't make it past my ass cheeks. I'm built for big thick throbbing cocks."

Harry struggled to hold back.

Nancy continued."Oh my! Does your micropenis want to cum for me? It's the smallest I've ever seen. You should be embarrassed."

That was the final straw, huge ropes of cum flew from Harry's penis, splattering her blouse.

She stood smoothly, straightening her skirt, like she'd just finished a complicated bit of housekeeping. "That's a big load for such a small dick."

Then she disappeared into the hallway, leaving Harry sitting there, pulse still hammering, skin still buzzing. Christ. That might have been the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. And the most degrading.

His train of thought was broken by his phone buzzing.

Shit. The meeting.

--

When he returned hours later, flustered and caffeine-jittered, the room was pristine. Bed made, curtains drawn, not a trace of her left--except for the hotel notepad on the nightstand.

Scrawled in looping script:

"How much do you earn? Would you like to worship my ass?"

His stomach dropped.

Because the worst part wasn't the questions.

It was how badly he wanted to answer them.