Room 275 (Updated)
By JamieDuskbane1.
[google-translator]
“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, so teeny tiny. You’re pitching a very pathetic tent. This is room 275, and you’re 2.75 inches. That’s hilarious.”
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 as if testing it for flaws. “Five-star guests need to unwind. We both know you want to jerk your tiny dick 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 was 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, manly cocks. Not thin little boy dicks.”
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 phone buzzing broke his train of thought.
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.
*****
Cum on Command (new)
The next morning, the door clicked open without a knock.
Nancy stood there in sheer black stockings, a blouse tight enough to reveal the lace beneath, and a smirk sharp as a stiletto. “Early Christmas present,” she said, holding up his notepad. “For me… or you?”
Harry’s mouth went dry. The numbers glared back at him, undeniable.
She stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. “You’ve got a pretty impressive package,” she mused, trailing a finger along the desk. “Except where it counts.”
Harry didn’t answer.
Nancy tilted her head, letting the silence stretch until it prickled against his skin. Then, with deliberate slowness, she unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows.
“Luckily,” she said, plucking the hotel pen from his breast pocket, “I’m very good at… handling underperformers.”
Nancy didn’t wait for a reply. With a slow, casual motion, she reached behind her waist and unfastened her skirt. It slid down her hips and pooled at her feet in silence, revealing the tops of her sheer stockings and a matching pair of black lace underwear that left very little to the imagination.
Harry’s breath caught.
She stepped out of the skirt like it was an afterthought, then looked him up and down with that same cool, assessing stare.
She took a step closer. Then another. Until the lace of her underwear nearly brushed his knees–close enough for him to smell her, something feminine and musky beneath the starch of her maid’s blouse.
“Here’s the thing about bonuses, Harry,” she murmured, tapping the notepad against his chest. “They’re discretionary.” Her nail traced the damp outline of his lower lip. “And right now? I’m disinclined to be generous.”
A whimper escaped him before he could choke it back.
Nancy’s smile turned predatory. “Was that a begging noise?” She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. “Because if you want me to touch you, you’ll have to ask properly.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut.
“Look at me.”
He couldn’t.
“Pathetic.” She sighed, straightening up. “Guess I’ll just–”
“Wait.” The word tore out of him, raw.
Nancy paused, eyebrow arched. “Yes?”
His hands trembled where they gripped his thighs. “Please.”
“Please…?”
“Please–” His voice cracked. “Touch me.”
“Mm.” She cupped his chin, forcing his gaze up. “Not quite the tone I was hoping for.” Her thumb pressed down on his bottom lip. “But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
And then–
Finally–
She reached for his belt.
“Pathetic,” she sneered. “You’re hard as a rock and dripping precum already. I think it’s time you worshipped my ass.”
She bent over the bed, revealing her large, round bottom. There was something unwashed and glorious about that first smell – like nothing Harry had ever experienced before.. He paused, fingers on her ass cheeks, ready to spread, saliva pooling under his tongue.
Once spread, the smell hit him hard– thick, sweet, and dangerous.
He pressed a finger to her asshole and gently rubbed it.. He brought it to his lips and sucked.
The taste was–
God.
“Fuck! Nancy,” muttered Harry. “You taste so good. You are a goddess!”
The musk filled his nose, his lungs–sweet, yes, but beneath it, something feral. Sweat. Soil. The phenomenal tang of something distinctly feminine.
He couldn’t stop.
“Tongue it!” Nancy commanded.
Harry couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned down, gripped the sides of her large ass, and– before he could think better of it– stuck his tongue straight into Nancy’s rosebud.
The flavor exploded across his senses.
At first–honeyed decay, like golden syrup left to ferment in a wooden barrel. Then, beneath it, something earthy, wild–the iron-rich tang of wet soil after a storm, the musky depth of a forest floor where mushrooms thrived in secret.
His tongue delved deeper, lapping at the sweaty hole, and the taste shifted again–feral sweetness, something almost meaty, a richness he couldn’t place.
Harry moaned, low in his throat.
He’d never tasted anything so alive.
It was wrong. It was perfect.
He needed more.
“Time to finish,” Nancy murmured, her hands pushing his face away.
Harry’s face jerked–desperate, uncontrolled–but she tsked and pulled back, leaving him trembling on the edge of the bed.
“I know you want to cum, beta boy.” Her voice was all silk and condescension. “But you don’t get to, until you say it.”
“Say–” His throat clicked around the word.
She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered exactly what she wanted.
Harry’s entire body flushed with shame.
“Go on.” She gave him a little shake. “Or I walk right now.”
A broken noise escaped him before the words did–filthy, degrading, exactly as she’d demanded. “Please, can I cum?”
Nancy’s laugh was pure victory. “Good boy.”
Then–finally–her hand moved.
It was over in seconds.
Harry slumped forward, gasping, but Nancy was already standing, straightening her blouse with clinical detachment.
“Poor Harry,” she mused, wiping her fingers on his discarded shirt. “Cumming on command.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Harry didn’t move for a long, long time.
To Be Continued…?
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