The next morning came in fragments: weak light leaking through thin curtains, the dull ache between my legs, the sticky residue of last night still crusting my inner thighs. My wrists were raw where the cuffs had bitten in; the metal had left faint red bracelets that throbbed in time with my pulse. I’d fallen asleep eventually—exhausted, unsatisfied, face mashed into the sheets that smelled like sweat and s*x and him.
The bedroom door creaked open sometime after I’d managed to drag myself upright. My body felt borrowed—muscles stiff, cunt swollen and tender, every movement sending fresh sparks of need through me. I was still naked, still cuffed to the headboard, though the chain had enough slack now that I could sit with my back against the pillows if I kept my arms stretched.
Two silhou
