💋S£× IN THE SENATE HOUSE 🔥🔞
Episode 4
I thought after that night in Suite 1515 I would be free. I paid the price with my body, and Katasha promised the secret about Aisha’s school would stay buried.
But Katasha Dantata does not let go easily.
For one whole week I dodged her. I saw her missed calls, her disappearing voice notes, her “Good morning, Distinguished” messages with heart emojis. I left them on read. I took different routes in the Senate. I even started eating lunch in my car just to avoid the cafeteria where she sometimes sat.
I told myself: no more. One time was weakness. Twice would be madness.
But Katasha is patient when she wants something.
Exactly seven days later, my phone rang while I was in a committee meeting. Unknown number. I stepped out to take it.
Her voice came smooth and low.
“Rashid, stop running. We need to finish what we started. Tonight. Ladi Kwali Suite, Sheraton Hotel. 11 p.m. Don’t make me ask twice.”
I opened my mouth to say no.
She continued before I could speak.
“Remember Aisha’s little secret? I still have friends who love gossip. One phone call and the whole Senate hears how the young senator trades contracts for fresh milk.”
The line went dead.
My legs felt weak.
That night I found myself driving again, hoodie up, cap low, heart beating like war drum.
Sheraton Hotel. Ladi Kwali Suite. Top floor.
I knocked once.
Katasha opened the door wearing a black silk robe that stopped high on her thighs, hair loose, lips painted deep red. The room was darker than last time—only red mood lights and candles. Soft, slow Burna Boy playing. The air smelled of jasmine and something stronger.
She locked the door, turned the key twice.
“No interruptions tonight,” she said, smiling like a cat that caught the mouse.
I stood there, hands in pockets.
“Katasha, this has to stop. I am not your toy.”
She walked closer, untied her robe slowly, let it fall.
Underneath—black lace bodysuit, cut high on the hips, leaving almost nothing hidden.
She took my hand and led me to the bed.
On the nightstand I saw them: soft leather cuffs attached to thin silver chains, already fixed to the bed posts.
My stomach dropped.
She saw my face and laughed softly.
“Don’t be scared, Distinguished. I like it a little wild. I want you to take full control tonight. Chain me. Make me forget my name.”
I stepped back.
“I have never done that. I am not ready for chains and… all this.”
She moved closer, pressed her body against mine, lips near my ear.
“That is why it will feel so good. Because it is new for you. And because you owe me.”
Her fingers traced down my chest.
“Think of the headlines if I talk. Think of your mother reading blogs. One night of letting go… and everything stays quiet.”
I looked at the cuffs, then at her eyes—dark, hungry, daring me.
Something inside me snapped.
Fear. Anger. Desire. All mixed.
I picked up the cuffs.
She lay back on the bed, stretched her arms above her head, smiling.
“Do it.”
I fastened the leather around her wrists, the chains giving just enough room to move, not enough to escape.
She bit her lip, watching me.
The red light made her skin glow like fire.
I climbed over her, slow.
She whispered, “Don’t be gentle tonight.”
I wasn’t.
I kissed her hard, deep, claiming. She kissed back like she was starving.
Her body arched under me, pulling at the chains, making them rattle softly.
I moved down her neck, her chest, tasting every inch, while she moaned low and pulled harder.
When I finally entered her garden, she gasped loud, back bowing off the bed.
I moved strong and steady at first, then faster, deeper, the way she begged with her eyes and her body.
The chains clinked with every thrust.
She started making sounds I had never heard before—wild, raw, unstoppable.
“Rashid… yes… harder…”
I gave her everything.
The bed shook. The headboard knocked the wall.
Her fair skin turned pink, then red.
Tears started rolling from the corners of her eyes—not pain, but too much pleasure.
She pulled at the chains so hard the leather left soft marks.
When she reached the peak, her whole body shook, legs locked around me, crying out my name like a prayer and a curse at the same time.
I followed seconds later, collapsing on her, breathing like I had run a marathon.
For a long time we just lay there, chains still holding her wrists, sweat cooling, hearts racing.
She turned her face to me, tears still wet on her cheeks, and smiled.
“That was perfect,” she whispered.
I unfastened the cuffs slowly.
She rubbed her wrists, kissed me soft.
“Your secret is still safe, Distinguished. For now.”
I dressed in silence.
As I reached the door, she called softly.
“Next time, I choose the hotel.”
I didn’t answer.
I left the suite, walked the long corridor, took the service lift down.
In the car park, my phone buzzed.
Another anonymous message.
A photo—me leaving the Ladi Kwali Suite just now.
Text:
Beautiful chains.
200 million naira by Monday
or the whole country sees how rough the young senator likes it.
I looked up at the hotel building, red lights glowing on the top floor.
Katasha had promised silence.
But somebody else had been watching again.
Somebody with better cameras.
And higher prices.
I started the car and drove into the night, knowing one thing for sure.
In this Senate House, every pleasure comes with a bill.
And mine was just getting higher.
Comment ‘Next’ for Episode 5.
To be continued…
Follow Vicky's Stories for more interesting stories.
Episode 4
I thought after that night in Suite 1515 I would be free. I paid the price with my body, and Katasha promised the secret about Aisha’s school would stay buried.
But Katasha Dantata does not let go easily.
For one whole week I dodged her. I saw her missed calls, her disappearing voice notes, her “Good morning, Distinguished” messages with heart emojis. I left them on read. I took different routes in the Senate. I even started eating lunch in my car just to avoid the cafeteria where she sometimes sat.
I told myself: no more. One time was weakness. Twice would be madness.
But Katasha is patient when she wants something.
Exactly seven days later, my phone rang while I was in a committee meeting. Unknown number. I stepped out to take it.
Her voice came smooth and low.
“Rashid, stop running. We need to finish what we started. Tonight. Ladi Kwali Suite, Sheraton Hotel. 11 p.m. Don’t make me ask twice.”
I opened my mouth to say no.
She continued before I could speak.
“Remember Aisha’s little secret? I still have friends who love gossip. One phone call and the whole Senate hears how the young senator trades contracts for fresh milk.”
The line went dead.
My legs felt weak.
That night I found myself driving again, hoodie up, cap low, heart beating like war drum.
Sheraton Hotel. Ladi Kwali Suite. Top floor.
I knocked once.
Katasha opened the door wearing a black silk robe that stopped high on her thighs, hair loose, lips painted deep red. The room was darker than last time—only red mood lights and candles. Soft, slow Burna Boy playing. The air smelled of jasmine and something stronger.
She locked the door, turned the key twice.
“No interruptions tonight,” she said, smiling like a cat that caught the mouse.
I stood there, hands in pockets.
“Katasha, this has to stop. I am not your toy.”
She walked closer, untied her robe slowly, let it fall.
Underneath—black lace bodysuit, cut high on the hips, leaving almost nothing hidden.
She took my hand and led me to the bed.
On the nightstand I saw them: soft leather cuffs attached to thin silver chains, already fixed to the bed posts.
My stomach dropped.
She saw my face and laughed softly.
“Don’t be scared, Distinguished. I like it a little wild. I want you to take full control tonight. Chain me. Make me forget my name.”
I stepped back.
“I have never done that. I am not ready for chains and… all this.”
She moved closer, pressed her body against mine, lips near my ear.
“That is why it will feel so good. Because it is new for you. And because you owe me.”
Her fingers traced down my chest.
“Think of the headlines if I talk. Think of your mother reading blogs. One night of letting go… and everything stays quiet.”
I looked at the cuffs, then at her eyes—dark, hungry, daring me.
Something inside me snapped.
Fear. Anger. Desire. All mixed.
I picked up the cuffs.
She lay back on the bed, stretched her arms above her head, smiling.
“Do it.”
I fastened the leather around her wrists, the chains giving just enough room to move, not enough to escape.
She bit her lip, watching me.
The red light made her skin glow like fire.
I climbed over her, slow.
She whispered, “Don’t be gentle tonight.”
I wasn’t.
I kissed her hard, deep, claiming. She kissed back like she was starving.
Her body arched under me, pulling at the chains, making them rattle softly.
I moved down her neck, her chest, tasting every inch, while she moaned low and pulled harder.
When I finally entered her garden, she gasped loud, back bowing off the bed.
I moved strong and steady at first, then faster, deeper, the way she begged with her eyes and her body.
The chains clinked with every thrust.
She started making sounds I had never heard before—wild, raw, unstoppable.
“Rashid… yes… harder…”
I gave her everything.
The bed shook. The headboard knocked the wall.
Her fair skin turned pink, then red.
Tears started rolling from the corners of her eyes—not pain, but too much pleasure.
She pulled at the chains so hard the leather left soft marks.
When she reached the peak, her whole body shook, legs locked around me, crying out my name like a prayer and a curse at the same time.
I followed seconds later, collapsing on her, breathing like I had run a marathon.
For a long time we just lay there, chains still holding her wrists, sweat cooling, hearts racing.
She turned her face to me, tears still wet on her cheeks, and smiled.
“That was perfect,” she whispered.
I unfastened the cuffs slowly.
She rubbed her wrists, kissed me soft.
“Your secret is still safe, Distinguished. For now.”
I dressed in silence.
As I reached the door, she called softly.
“Next time, I choose the hotel.”
I didn’t answer.
I left the suite, walked the long corridor, took the service lift down.
In the car park, my phone buzzed.
Another anonymous message.
A photo—me leaving the Ladi Kwali Suite just now.
Text:
Beautiful chains.
200 million naira by Monday
or the whole country sees how rough the young senator likes it.
I looked up at the hotel building, red lights glowing on the top floor.
Katasha had promised silence.
But somebody else had been watching again.
Somebody with better cameras.
And higher prices.
I started the car and drove into the night, knowing one thing for sure.
In this Senate House, every pleasure comes with a bill.
And mine was just getting higher.
Comment ‘Next’ for Episode 5.
To be continued…
Follow Vicky's Stories for more interesting stories.
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