I take a shaky breath. My chest rises and falls. The ache between my thighs pulses with each heartbeat. But underneath the desperation, underneath the need that’s been building—what do I actually want?
My fingers curl into my palms. My throat works.
“No.” The word comes out steady. “I don’t want to stop.” Heat crawls up my neck. “I want...I want you to keep control. Please, Sir.”
His eyes change, and the intensity softens at the edges. His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone.
“You’re sure?”
I lean into his touch, my body answering before my words do. “Yes, Sir. I’m okay. I want this.”
“That’s my good girl.” He kisses my forehead tenderly. “I know you’re aching for it, but that orgasm belongs to me. You’ll wait until I decide to give it to you.”
“Yes, Sir.” The words come out shaky but certain.
He hugs me, holding me close for another moment. “Go clean up now, and then you’re off to pamper yourself. I have work, but I’ll be thinking about you all day.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “And knowing you’ll be desperate to come but can’t touch yourself.”
Heat floods through me. “Yes, Sir.”
He gives me one more quick, hard kiss that leaves me breathless. “Good. Now go on.”
I head to the bathroom on unsteady legs. In the shower, I let the hot water cascade over my shoulders, washing carefully. When the soap slips between my thighs, I gasp and jerk away from my own touch. Too much. Everything is too sensitive. I finish quickly, focusing on the body parts that won’t make this worse.
Afterwards, wrapped in a towel, I notice the way each step creates friction. The way sitting down sends a pulse of desire through my core. I smile despite the frustration humming undermy skin. There’s something oddly pleasurable about walking around unsatisfied because he decided I would be.
In my bedroom, I find a simple black dress laid out on the bed. No panties.
Holy hell. My thighs clench. He picked this out. Decided for me. I grab the dress, already turned on. There’s probably something I should unpack about why I like this so much, but I don’t care. For these few weeks, I just want to be his.
The mall feels surreal when I know I can buy whatever I want. His credit card burns a hole in my pocket as I drift toward the high-end boutiques. I’m aware of how I must look with my blonde braids and chunky boots. Like I raided a teenager’s closet rather than dressed for designer stores. I half-expect someone to stop me and ask what I’m doing here. But no one does. The salespeople smile and offer help, treating me like any other customer. With a strange flutter in my chest, I realize I look like I belong here—or at least, like I belong to someone who does.
I run my fingers over silk blouses and cashmere sweaters. What does it mean that spending his money doesn’t make me feel guilty? That I want to buy things he’ll enjoy taking off me? Without his credit card, I would have agonized over every price tag. Now I’m selecting items based on how Leo will react when he sees me in them.
I’m changing. The realization settles over me, impossible to ignore. I try on a deep blue silk dress in the fitting room, and it transforms me into someone I barely recognize—sultry and confident. My eyes are bright, and there’s something different in the set of my shoulders. I’m more alive. More certain of what I want. I like this new version of me.
Once I decide to buy the dress, it gets easier to go wild. By the time I’m done at the boutique, I’ve got an impressive haul—the blue dress, a skintight red number that’ll make Leo lose his mind, and several other pieces I know will end up on his bedroom floor. The total makes my eyes widen, but I hand over the card without hesitating.
I consider heading to a lingerie store next, but then a better idea strikes me. I should buy a sex toy that Leo can use on me.
My body flushes as I make my way to an adult toy store tucked in a discreet corner of the mall. I’ve never bought a toy with the intent of someone else using it on me—let alone with someone else’s money—and my pulse kicks up as I step inside.
The store is beautiful, with displays that look more like modern art installations than a sex shop. A woman with a friendly smile guides me to a wall of vibrators in jewel tones, and I spot one immediately. It’s beautifully designed, curved like a wave with a smaller nub for clitoral stimulation. It’s a deep, luxurious purple.
I imagine Leo’s eyes on me while I use it. Better yet, him controlling it, deciding when and how much pleasure I get. The thought makes me squeeze my thighs together.
“I’ll take it.”
She packages it discreetly, and handing over the card feels easier than ever.
When I leave the toy shop, I pass an art supply store and pause at the window, eyeing the display of paints and brushes. With Leo’s card in my pocket, I could finally buy quality supplies. But that feels different than buying clothes he’ll enjoy removing. Art supplies feel too much like I’m taking advantage. I move on.
I skip the lingerie shop for now and find a bench, pulling out my phone to text Willow.
Alice:Yo, want to go lingerie shopping with me soon?
I need some girl talk. Maybe it’s time to tell her what’s really going on with Leo. She responds almost immediately.
Willow:Sure, when and where? I need something sexy too.
