Hotel sex

I locked the hotel door and set my phone on the nightstand, already recording. Samyukta stood in the middle of the room in her office clothes, black skirt and white button-up, clutching her own phone. It buzzed in her hand. Her sister’s name lit the screen.

“Answer it later,” I said. “Shirt off. Skirt stays for now. Hands behind your back.”

She stared at the phone, then at me. “Daddy… my sister’s calling—”

I stepped in and tore the shirt open. Buttons scattered. She gasped as the fabric ripped down the front. I yanked the ruined shirt off her shoulders and cuffed her wrists behind her with the metal handcuffs. The phone in her hand fell to the carpet, still buzzing.

I lit the candle. The first drops of hot wax landed on her inner thighs just under the hem of the skirt. She jerked, a sharp cry escaping.

“Stay still.”

I painted lines of wax across both thighs, the heat making her skin flush. She was already crying. More wax dripped higher, closer to the edge of her panties. Then I moved to her chest. The bra came off with one hard pull. I tilted the candle and let wax fall directly onto her nipples. She screamed, back arching, the cuffs rattling.

“Daddy—please—it burns—”

I did the other nipple the same way, then her collarbones, then a slow trail down her stomach. Her phone kept buzzing on the floor. Sister. Again.

I turned her around and pushed her face-down on the bed. Wax landed across her upper back in thick stripes. She sobbed into the sheets, body shaking. I set the candle aside, rolled her onto her back again, and pinched both nipples hard between my fingers. The cooling wax cracked and pulled. She yelped, tears streaming.

“Daddy—stop—please—”

I pinched harder, twisting, watching her face crumple. Her phone buzzed again. I ignored it, kept pinching, then closed one hand around her throat. Light pressure at first. She froze. I tightened until her eyes went wide and desperate, held it, then eased off so she could gasp.

“Say it.”

“Daddy…”

Another pinch on the left nipple, another choke. She was begging now, voice breaking. I tore the skirt the rest of the way—fabric ripping under my hands—until it was just a ruined band around her waist. Panties next. I yanked them down and off.

Her phone rang again. I picked it up, still recording on mine, and held it near her face while I pushed two fingers into her. She was wet. She moaned, the sound high and scared, even as she shook her head.

“Answer it,” I said, and tightened my hand on her throat just enough that she had to fight for air. “Tell her you’re fine.”

She tried. Voice wrecked. “H-hello… I’m okay… no, I can’t talk—”

I fucked her with my fingers while she spoke, then pulled them out and pushed her own phone between her thighs, the cold edge of it sliding against her. She cried out, the call still connected. I angled it and pushed the smooth back of the phone inside her, slow and deep. She moaned, loud, begging into the phone and at me at the same time.

“Daddy—please—don’t—sister can hear—”

I started moving the phone in and out of her while my other hand stayed on her throat, controlling her air in short pulses. She was sobbing and moaning, hips twitching, the handcuffs digging into the mattress. Wax cracked on her nipples every time she arched. I pinched one nipple hard while I thrust the phone deeper. She came like that—sudden, shaking, a broken moan spilling out while her sister’s voice asked if she was still there.

I pulled the phone out, slick, and set it aside still on the call. Then I pushed my cock into her in one long thrust. She screamed, the sound raw. I fucked her hard, one hand on her throat, the other pinching and twisting her wax-covered nipples. She begged the whole time.

“Daddy—too much—please—I’m scared—sister’s still—”

I choked her through the next orgasm, feeling her cunt clench around me while she sobbed and moaned and tried to say my name. The recording caught everything: the wet sounds, the ripping of what was left of her clothes, the constant buzzing of the ignored calls, her voice breaking every time she called me Daddy.

I didn’t stop until she was shaking all over, thighs streaked with wax and cum, nipples red and marked, face soaked with tears. Her phone finally went quiet on the sheets beside her. I stayed buried inside her, hand resting on her throat, while she whispered, wrecked and small.

“Daddy… please…”

The red light on my phone kept glowing.