Five days. Five long fucking days. I ate in Fisher’s bed. Slept in Fisher’s bed. Whenever I needed to go to relieve myself, as Fisher had so elegantly put it, my body allowed me to get up, but my feet carried me toward the discreet door over by the armoire and permitted me to enter the beautiful white marble bathroom there. I could do what I needed to do, and I could wash my hands, but as soon as I was done, my legs carried me back to the comfortable prison of his bed. I had no idea what kind of magic kept the sheets so perfectly cool and clean, but it didn’t take me long to decide that it was
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Hes a 10 but he commands/forces you to stay in his bed for a week
