Since he claimed it, her life was full of little reminders. A memory minefield, every little thing a
Since he claimed it, her life was full of little reminders. A memory minefield, every little thing a potential landmine to lose her in a sea of reminiscence for minutes, hours, and, she was sure if she was allowed, days. One of his socks casually discarded during lovemaking, left under one of the chairs and forgotten about, only spotted by her when she was crawling about, as ordered. The soft rush of a breeze stirring her nipples, reminding her that she was naked on his orders, a sudden throb between her legs at that mere thought, thinking of why she was always naked, and the many, many times he’d chosen to give her an example of that reason. Thighs squeezed together, only amplifying that throb. It was a problem, in the most frivolous sense of the word, that caused her to be late with her chores once or twice. It was a problem, in the most immediate sense of the word, that led to her whining with frustration that her freedom to play was her freedom, was, in fact, entirely locked away within his decisions. It was a problem, in the most delicious sense of the word, that she would happily ignore any possible solution for. -- source link
#snippet#finger biting