Page 27 of Stuffing My Obsession
My pulse thrums hard in my ears. The rules. The ones he set the first night he gifted this room to me. Rules that have become my anchor, my freedom in disguise.
I nod, lips parted. “Yes, Sir.”
He releases my wrists only to stand, towering over me. He strides to the dresser, opens the drawer, and my heart skips when I see the glint of leather.
Restraints. My favorite.
“Hands up,” he commands, and my body obeys before my mind can catch up.
He cuffs my wrists together, his grip firm but gentle, then straps them to a hook in the center of the headboard. I’m pinned, arms directly above me, chest arched forward like an offering.
Vulnerable. His.
“Look at you,” he rasps, trailing a finger down my throat to the valley between my breasts. “My perfect little wife. All spread out, ready for me.”
Heat floods my cheeks. God, the way he says it shakes me down to my bone marrow.
He takes his time, blindfold next, the soft velvet slipping over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. My breath hitches, but I don’t resist.
“You remember your safe word?” he asks, his voice silky with need.
“Yes, Sir. Red.”
“Good girl.”
The praise makes my toes curl.
Then his palms skate over my ribs, my thighs, my hips. His mouth closes around a nipple, biting, sucking, until I writhe against the restraints.
“Patience,” he growls. “You’ll come when I say you can.”
A whimper escapes me, but I bite it back. The sting only makes me hotter.
Something cold touches my skin next, smooth and hard. I know that toy. The glass wand. He drags it up my inner thigh, circling, teasing, just enough to make me arch helplessly.
“Please—”
“Please what?”
“Please, Sir. More.”
The wand presses inside, slow and filling, and I moan, my voice loud enough to echo off the soundproofed walls. Myles chuckles deep in his throat, the sound vibrating straight into me.
“You’re already soaking. You love this, don’t you? Being helpless for me. My pretty little captive.”
“Yes, Sir,” I gasp, trembling under the rhythm he builds, the glass thrusting, retreating, circling my clit until I’m breaking apart.
But just when I’m almost at the peak, he stops.
I cry out, tugging at the cuffs. “No!”
He grips my jaw, his mouth at my ear. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes, Sir. Please,” I beg.
“Then beg like you mean it.”
The humiliation, the need, the love…it all blends into one molten ache. “Please, Myles. Please let me come. I need you. I need all of you.”
