5. Waking Up Bound Again

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

Only that at some point, after her body was wrecked and her mouth whispered thank you through tears, her Dom carried her.

Naked. Used. Still blindfolded.

He whispered to her as he laid her on the bed—something like, you’ve never been more beautiful than when you’re broken open like this—and she believed it.

Then darkness.

Then breath.

And now…

She was awake.

But still blindfolded.

And tied.

Her arms were stretched above her head, bound to the headboard. Her ankles—spread wide—were restrained at each corner of the mattress with thick velvet cuffs.

She tried to speak, but something soft pressed against her lips.

A gag again.

No voice. No sight.

And… no him.

She could feel it.

The room had changed.

Someone else was in the room.

She heard footsteps—bare, quiet. Closer. She tensed, her body already humming, still sore, still open, still used.

Then—fingertips.

Strangers’ fingers brushed down her belly.

Slow.

Confident.

Not him.

She moaned into the gag, shaking her head, uncertain. But her body? Her body welcomed it. Her thighs twitched open farther, her back arched.

The fingers slid lower. Slippery. Skilled. They teased her folds, circled her clit without touching it, until her hips were rolling up against nothing.

Then a whisper, low and unfamiliar:

“He said I could use you… if you begged for it in your sleep.”

She gasped.

“You did, by the way.”

And then the stranger’s mouth was on her.

Tongue dragging up her inner thigh. Pausing. Breathing against her wetness.

“Mmm… still messy. Good.”

He licked her slowly, like he was tasting a meal left just for him. Long strokes. Lazy. Expert. His tongue found her clit and pressed just right, and she cried into the gag—body jerking, bound, helpless.

Her Dom wasn’t there.

But he’d sent someone else.

And now that someone was between her thighs, feasting on her like he had all the time in the world.

One finger. Then two.

They slipped inside like they belonged there.

He curled them just right, his tongue flicking her clit in patterns she’d never felt before.

And still—she couldn’t see.

Couldn’t ask.

She was just there. Taken. Gifted.

And when she came—because she would—she didn’t even know who was the one making her scream.

“Shh,” the stranger whispered, tongue still deep, fingers curling as she bucked into him. “He said you’re not allowed to come again unless I say.”

Her head shook violently.