Kaley looked around her. The room was dark. There were candles everywhere. Rose petals. Gentle music. Cheryl had gone all out.
But something wasn't right.
The air was too still. The silence behind the music too thick. Kaley could feel the velvet rug beneath her back. The scent of roses hit her hard--sweet, yes, but cloying. Almost sickly.
"She's really gone all out this time," Kaley murmured under her breath.
She blinked.
Darkness again.
And when her eyes opened this time--
Kaley was tied to a huge bed, one arm at each corner, one foot at each corner.
Soft cuffs, but attached to imposing chains. Solid metal. Tight enough that she couldn't move, couldn't shift. Her heart pounded against her ribs, hard and fast. The candles were still burning, flickering shadows dancing across the high ceiling.
She wasn't alone anymore.
A figure stepped out from the dark--heels clicking softly against the floor, deliberate, unhurried.
Cheryl.
She looked breathtaking. Dangerous in silk. Lips like sin. That maddening smirk curving at the edge of her mouth like she already knew Kaley's thoughts before she thought them.
"I see some things never change," Cheryl said, voice low, velvet over broken glass. She ran a manicured finger along the edge of the bedpost. "I knew you would enjoy playing helpless."
Kaley swallowed hard. "Untie me. You drugged me to get me here! That isn't ok!"
Cheryl tilted her head. "Well hey no, you aren't screaming, you can't be that upset! Do you really want me to untie you?"
Kaley hated how much she hesitated. Hated that her body still remembered what it was like to be touched by Cheryl--owned by her. Worshipped and destroyed in the same breath.
She lay back, breath shallow, heart pounding in her ears. Accepting her fate--or maybe craving it. Either way, she knew what was coming.
Cheryl had her answer.
She climbed onto the bed, a predator with no need to pretend anymore, and slid between Kaley's thighs like she belonged there. Like she'd never left. Her hands were sure, her mouth even more so--warm, relentless, devastating.
She knew every part of Kaley. Every flick, every pause, every pattern that made her fall apart. She didn't ask for permission. She took exactly what she wanted from her.
This wasn't about Cheryl's pleasure--it never had been. She'd always been a giver, not a receiver. It had been one of the few battles they never fought with words: both of them desperate to outdo the other in giving, in making the other fall apart first.
But Kaley knew the truth now.
This--being tied down, utterly at Cheryl's mercy--was Cheryl's way of winning. Of making sure Kaley couldn't fight back, couldn't give anything in return. Could only take, helpless and undone.
And God, it was working.
Kaley's back arched involuntarily, her wrists straining against the cuffs. She moaned, half in pleasure, half in frustration at her own traitorous body. She was already close, too close--and Cheryl knew it. That smirk, that slow, deep pressure on her clit, that maddening rhythm--it was a storm she couldn't escape.
Cheryl paused, lifting her head just enough for Kaley to see the wicked glint in her eyes.
"Oh no," she murmured, voice thick with promise. "We're not rushing this. You're mine tonight. And we're going to enjoy every second of it."
She withdrew her hands with deliberate slowness, letting the loss sting.
Then, without breaking eye contact, she lowered her mouth again--this time bypassing the heat between Kaley's legs. Her tongue traced a slow, teasing path along the inside of her thigh, soft and maddening, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
It was almost tender. Almost.
She writhed, desperate, but there was no escape. The restraints held.
Cheryl's tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, ghosting just above where Kaley wanted--needed--her most. It was maddening. Designed to be.
But suddenly, Kaley's breath hitched for a different reason.
Reality punched through the fog of lust, sharp and cold.
"Cheryl..." Her voice cracked.
Cheryl paused, looking up.
"This isn't fair," Kaley whispered. "You can't do this. We're not... this isn't us anymore. I don't belong to you."
Cheryl's expression didn't shift. Not even a flicker of guilt.
"Oh, Kaley," she said softly, almost pitying. "You never stopped belonging to me."
She dragged her nails lightly down Kaley's inner thighs, just enough pressure to make her flinch, to blur the line between resistance and need all over again.
"You say no," Cheryl murmured, leaning in, "but your body's still begging."
Kaley closed her eyes, shame burning beneath her skin. Because Cheryl was right. She hated that she was right.
But she also wasn't ready to give in.
Not completely.
