Episode 1: Tied and Taken

“Hands behind your back,” he said, voice cool and clean like cut glass.

Lina swallowed, unsure if this was real, or a heat-drenched dream. But her body moved before her brain could argue. Her wrists trembled as he tied them with soft black silk — tight enough to hold her, loose enough to tease.

“On the bed,” he said. “Now.”

She climbed up, heat pooling between her thighs. His presence soaked the room like gravity, dragging her in with every word.

He pushed her skirt up. No hesitation. No asking. He didn’t need to — he was the boss, and she’d already surrendered by obeying once.

“No panties,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

He opened a drawer. Pulled out a small, smooth, stainless steel vibrator. Cold. Sleek. Flashing red with a single button on a remote.

“Ever had a toy take my place?” he asked, lips brushing her ear.

She shook her head, breath caught in her throat.

“Then this’ll be your first lesson in obedience.”

He slicked it with something cold — lube or oil — then pressed it against her entrance, slow but firm. She moaned when it slid inside, filling her deep. Her wrists tugged uselessly against the ties.

Then he turned it on.

Low at first. A soft hum. A warm buzz deep inside her that made her thighs twitch and her nipples pebble against the cool air.

Then medium.

Her hips arched. She gasped.

Then high.

Her body jerked. Her breath caught.

“Oh god—sir, I—please—” she gasped, her hips grinding against the air.

He watched from the chair. Pants unzipped, cock hard and thick in his hand. But he didn’t touch her. Not yet.

“You don’t come unless I say.”

Her body betrayed her.

“I can’t—” she sobbed. “I’m gonna—”

“You do,” he said, voice low, “and you’ll get punished.”

But she couldn’t stop it. The pressure broke. Her moans cracked. Her soaked walls clenched around the toy as she came — hard, wild, wrecked.

She collapsed back into the sheets, panting, shaking, spent.

Kade stood.

“Disobedient already.”

He removed the toy with a slow twist that made her twitch again.

“You’ll learn control,” he whispered, brushing his fingers between her legs, gathering her slick on his fingertips. “Starting now.”

---

Episode 2: Punish the Pretty

She returned the next night.

No panties. Collar on. Knees to the floor, just like he’d ordered.

“You learn fast,” he said. “But not fast enough.”

He bent her over the bed. Spread her thighs. Tied her wrists and ankles to the bedposts — tight, locked, helpless. The soft silk replaced by thick leather cuffs. She was open. Vulnerable. Waiting.

He didn’t start gentle.

He inserted the same toy, deeper this time. Turned it on to full speed without warning.

She gasped, hips trying to pull away — but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t hide. Could only feel.

The first orgasm came within seconds. Shattering. Loud.

“You’re not allowed to come,” he said coldly.

“I’m sorry—!”

Smack.

The paddle met her ass in a clean, hard slap that made her jolt and scream into the gag he’d shoved between her lips.

“You’ll take five before I touch you with my cock.”

She tried to shake her head. Tried to scream. But the toy was still on, still pulsing inside her, making her drip down her thighs and onto the sheets.

The second orgasm ripped through her.

Then the third.

He watched, unmoved, stroking himself as she came again and again, broken by pleasure, tortured by her own body.

Four.

Five.

She sobbed into the gag, body twitching, muscles weak and trembling.

Then, finally — he pulled the toy out.

And replaced it with something bigger. Hotter. Real.

He slid into her in one brutal thrust. Thick. Hard. Deep.

Her eyes rolled back as he pounded into her without warning or pause, his cock stretching her ruined walls, still soaked from all five forbidden orgasms.

“You’ll take every inch of me,” he growled, hand tangled in her hair. “You’ll beg for my punishment.”

He thrust harder. Deeper. Slamming against her soaked core, her juices running down his cock with every slap of skin.

“You think you get to come before I say?” he snarled, rutting into her faster. “You’ll come until you break.”

She screamed as another orgasm tore through her.

Then another.

He didn’t stop.

Finally — when she was shaking, crying, begging even through the gag — he pulled it from her lips.

“Inside or out?” he asked, panting.

“In,” she whispered.

He growled. Lost control. Slammed in hard one last time — and came, deep and hot, filling her with his release.

She collapsed, twitching, wet and full.

Kade leaned down. Kissed her neck.

Untied her slowly. Held her in his lap.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered.

She nodded, broken and satisfied.

“I know.”

---

The End

Episode 1: The Red Button

The mansion was silent. Sacred.

Evelyn moved like a ghost down the marble halls, feather duster in hand, hips swaying beneath the tight cotton of her uniform. Every morning, she adjusted the hem of her skirt—too short. Always too short. But Mr. Voss had chosen it. And Mr. Voss always got what he wanted.

She was his now, after all. Contractually. Legally.

Owned.

The intercom crackled above her.

“Come to the west wing. Now.”

His voice was silk dipped in steel.

She froze.

The west wing was off-limits. No maid ever returned the same after being summoned there.

She swallowed her fear—and obeyed.

The door to the study was black oak, cold beneath her palm. She stepped inside.

He was waiting.

Seated behind a massive desk of obsidian wood, eyes pinned to her body like a blade to flesh. Sharp. Possessive. Patient.

Mr. Adrien Voss didn’t speak immediately.

He didn’t need to.

His gaze traveled slowly—throat, breasts, hips, legs. She felt exposed, even fully clothed.

“Lock the door,” he said finally.

She turned the key.

“Take three steps forward.”

He stood, towering.

“Closer.”

She obeyed. Her breath quickened. His scent hit her: bourbon, leather, shadow.

“Today is your obedience test,” he said. “Page forty-seven of your contract. Paragraph nine.”

Her lips parted. She remembered the page.

She hadn’t read it. No one did.

“You’ll learn,” he murmured. Then pressed a red button beneath his desk.

A hidden panel opened in the wall behind him. Velvet-lined. Lit from within.

Toys. Dozens of them.

Elegant. Terrifying. Gold. Glass. Leather. Vibrators. Gags. Restraints. Things she didn’t recognize.

Her thighs clenched instinctively.

“Strip.”

Silence.

“Do it, or leave this house with nothing but your shame.”

Her fingers moved, slow, trembling. Button by button, she peeled off the uniform until she stood before him—naked, flushed, nipples peaked, breath unsteady.

He walked behind her. She heard the soft click of cuffs being lifted from the velvet.

“Hands behind your back.”

She obeyed.

Cold leather encircled her wrists. Tight. Secure. She tested them—no give.

“You’ll be helpless,” he murmured. “And you'll thank me for it.”

He guided her to the edge of the desk, then reached into the drawer and pulled out a gag—black silicone, shaped like a thick, ridged tongue.

“Open that sweet little mouth.”

She hesitated.

“Now.”

She obeyed. The toy slid between her lips—filling her, silencing her.

“Perfect. A doll should be seen, not heard.”

Then came the bullet vibrator—gold, remote-controlled. He knelt, and without ceremony, slid it into her dripping heat.

Her gag muffled the gasp. Her knees wobbled.

“You'll clean this room, hands cuffed, mouth full, and my eyes on you.”

The vibrator buzzed to life. A low hum deep inside her.

She moaned into the gag, body jerking, but still she tried to dust—limp cloth in bound hands, hips swaying uncontrollably with every teasing pulse.

He sat, remote in hand, watching her fall apart without a word.

—

Episode 2: Punish the Doll

She never made it back to her room.

Mr. Voss had summoned her again—no words, just a message left on her bed: “Downstairs. Naked. Mouth open.”

She obeyed.

Now she stood tied to a polished column in the study. Wrist cuffs clipped to metal hooks above her head, ankles spread and fastened with black silk rope to the floor. Her bare body trembled in the cold air.

And her mouth was already filled.

A bit gag this time—wide, tight, buckled behind her head. She drooled around it, helpless. Vulnerable.

Mr. Voss circled her slowly, like a predator with a trembling pet.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Perfect. Dripping. Dumb and ready.”

He ran a gloved finger down the valley between her breasts, to her belly, then lower—where she was flushed and glistening.

“I can still feel the vibrator inside you.”

He removed it. A soft wet sound as it slid free.

“You begged last night with your eyes, little doll. But tonight… I won’t stop.”

He turned to the velvet wall and pulled two new toys:

A vibrating anal plug—black, curved, gem-tipped.

A long, dual-end thrusting wand—one end thick for penetration, the other smaller and ribbed.

Her eyes widened.

“Shhh,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “Good girls don’t flinch.”

He lubed the plug and pressed it slowly against her tight entrance.

She moaned behind the gag—half pain, half pleasure—as it slid in.

Next, he filled her core with the thrusting wand. Smooth, firm, perfect.

“So full now,” he purred. “Let’s make you feel everything.”

The buzz came first. Then the pulse.

Her eyes fluttered. The sensations overlapped, collided. Her legs pulled against the ropes. Her body convulsed, needy and wild.

He stepped behind her and landed a sharp slap to her ass.

“That’s one. For getting wet before I even touched you.”

Another slap. Then another.

“Two. For staring at me like a whore.”

A fourth—hard, deep, enough to make her cry out behind the gag.

Then silence.

She was panting. Drooling. Writhing.

He pressed the wand deeper—and activated the thrust mode.

It moved inside her. Slow. Rhythmic. Mechanical domination.

She screamed into the gag.

Her body bucked as wave after wave hit her. The plug buzzed in sync with the thrusting wand. Her clit throbbed without even being touched.

She’d never come like this. Not once. Not this violently.

“Beg with your body,” he growled. “Show me.”

She did.

She convulsed—hard—back arching, moans muffled, liquid heat pouring down her thighs.

And still… he didn’t stop.

He kept going.

Two orgasms. Then three.

She sagged in the ropes, broken, used, blissed-out and trembling. He finally removed the gag, letting her gasp for breath.

“What do you say?” he whispered, lifting her chin.

Her voice was hoarse.

“Thank you, Mr. Voss…”

“Good girl. Now clean up the mess you made.”

He unhooked her wrists, pulled her to her knees, and guided her to the place between his legs.

Episode 1: The Storm Room

The manor echoed with the storm’s fury, thunder rolling like distant war drums.

Elara stood barefoot at the edge of Cassian’s private studio, drawn there by a pull she couldn’t name. She didn’t speak when he stepped in behind her—didn’t even flinch. She could feel him, the heat of him, like something primal.

“You said not to wander,” she murmured. “I did.”

Cassian exhaled slowly, a sound somewhere between restraint and resignation. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, turning to face him. “Should I be?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his hands gripped her waist as if trying to push her away—but instead pulled her closer. His kiss was searing, all teeth and hunger, years of restraint unraveling in a heartbeat.

They crashed back against the canvas-stained wall, his mouth devouring hers, her body arching into his like fire into oxygen. Her fingers dug into his shirt, pulling him closer, not flinching as he backed her toward the massive chaise by the window.

“You want danger?” he rasped against her skin. “This is what it feels like.”

She moaned in response, and that was all he needed.

What followed wasn’t gentle. It was the raw kind of passion that leaves bruises—not on skin, but on memory. He worshipped her like something he’d tried to forget for years, and she let him, gasping his name like a secret she never knew she had.

Later, her body still trembling beneath his, she whispered into the dark:

“I don’t want safe.”

---

🌘 Episode 2: Velvet Confession

The next night, she found him in the library, standing beside the fire, sleeves rolled up, a glass of dark scotch in one hand.

He didn’t turn. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m already here,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Are you going to send me away?”

When he turned, his gaze was molten.

“This will ruin you,” he warned.

“Then ruin me.”

That broke him.

This time, it wasn’t a storm. It was a slow burn—a velvet unraveling. He pressed her against the bookshelf, kissing her so deeply it felt like a claim. His fingers trailed down her spine, slow and deliberate, until she was gasping his name again.

They moved to the floor, the rug a cushion for sins neither of them would take back. His hands guided her like a sculptor shaping a masterpiece. She gave herself to him fully, every moan a confession, every breath a surrender.

It wasn’t just lust. It was something else—darker, deeper. He looked at her like she was both redemption and punishment.

When it was over, they lay entangled in silence, the fire casting golden patterns across bare skin.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” he whispered.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she replied. “Neither could you.”

The end of this story let's meet in another one later