The Rules of Submission

When Elena opened her eyes again, the blindfold was gone, but her vision was still fogged by adrenaline and lust.

She was no longer on the floor.

Somehow, between strikes and whispered orders, he had lifted her—cradled her like she weighed nothing—and placed her on a velvet chaise near the corner of the room. Her wrists were still bound, but now in front of her. A calculated mercy.

Damien Wolfe sat across from her in a high-backed leather chair, still in his mask, legs spread with the ease of a man who owned everything in the room—including her.

"Rule number one," he began, voice slow, rich like smoke and honey, "you speak only when spoken to during our sessions. Unless it's a safe word. Understood?"

She nodded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Words, Elena."

Her mouth went dry. “Yes, Sir.”

That smirk again—sharp, knowing. "Good girl."

The praise hit her like a shot of whiskey. Hot. Dangerous. Addictive.

"Rule number two," he continued, "you obey. Instantly. Without hesitation. If I want your body open, it opens. If I want your silence, you swallow every scream. If I want your tears... I’ll take them."

Her breath caught. She didn't look away.

"Rule number three." His voice dipped lower. "You do not lie to me. About your pleasure. Your limits. Your fear. I can handle your honesty. I won’t tolerate games."

A pause.

"Unless they’re mine to play."

She felt her thighs press together. He noticed.

He always noticed.

He stood and stalked toward her, slow and deliberate, like a lion toying with his prey.

"And rule number four…" His fingers brushed her ankle, dragging upward with maddening restraint. "You never remove the mask. Mine or yours. Anonymity is protection. It keeps this clean. Controlled."

Elena tilted her chin defiantly. “That’s four rules. What’s the fifth?”

His hand stilled halfway up her thigh.

He leaned down, mouth inches from hers, his breath warm and tempting.

“The fifth rule, little dove,” he murmured, “is that once you start craving me…”

He traced a line up her throat with his knuckles.

“…you never stop.”

She inhaled sharply.

“Is that a threat?” she whispered.

He smiled, slow and lethal. “No, Elena. That’s a guarantee.”

Then, in one smooth motion, he took the silk from her wrists, kissed the raw red skin it left behind, and whispered at her ear:

“Tonight was just the first lesson. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.”

EP5 Teaser: Bound to Please

The first time he ties her wrists, she doesn't fight.

Not because she trusts him.

But because something in his touch tells her—

he already knows what she craves.

The silk feels like a promise.

The tension, like a dare.

And when he circles her slowly, lips grazing her skin but never quite touching…

She realizes: this isn’t just a lesson in pleasure.

It’s an unraveling.

Because being bound by Damien Wolfe isn’t about restraint—

It’s about revelation.

And she’s about to learn that the one thing more dangerous than his ropes…

is how much she wants to stay tied to him.

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