Page 49 of Deviant Obsession

"How's that feel?" he asks.

I swallow, testing the sensation. "Fine. Good.”

"Excellent."

His fingers continue pulling and probing, fiddling with something at the back of my neck until I feel a gentle tug.

At the same time, I feel a corresponding tug in my ass. I gulp, testing the motion a few more times before realizing what Deanhas done. He's connected the collar to the plug somehow, every time I move my head, it pulls on the other end.

"Figured it out, clever girl?" Dean asks, and I can practically hear his smug grin. "That's right. I've threaded a rope through the ring on your collar and attached it to the anal hook. You’re well and truly trussed up for me now. Movement is gonna be pretty difficult from here on.”

To demonstrate, he gently pushes my head forward, lower than I dared to, until the movement causes the hook to pull tightly against my asshole.

"Oh, God," I whimper.

“Oh, God, indeed,” he chuckles. “Now, for your punishment."

This isn’t it? What more could he possibly have planned?

I hear him backing away, followed by the door opening.

"Dean?" I call out, a hint of panic bleeding into my voice.

"Take some time to think, Rhea," he responds, sounding entirely too distant for my liking. "Think about the importance of being on time."

The door clicks shut, leaving me alone in stunned silence.

For a moment, I can't quite believe what's happening.

Surely, he's not actually leaving me here like this?

But as the seconds tick by with no sound of his return, the reality of my situation sinks in. I'm alone. Blindfolded, bound, and plugged, with no idea how long Dean intends to leave me here.

At first, I try to stay as still as possible, not wanting to pull at the tether between the collar and the plug. But as time passes, small movements become inevitable. Each shift sends a jolt through me, a constant reminder of my hopeless predicament.

It doesn’t take long for my brain to tie itself in knots, trying to gauge how much time has passed. It feels like hours, but logically, I know it can't have been that long. Still, with no visualcues and no way to check the time, each minute stretches into eternity.

Part of me wishes he had chosen a different punishment. A spanking, or even a whipping—anything that would be over quickly. This drawn-out isolation is far more degrading than I could have known. Then again, if Dean has heard anything from Ethan, he'd know that I might enjoy a whipping too much for it to truly be a punishment.

As more time passes, serious discomfort begins to set in. My knees ache from being left on all fours. The stretch in my shoulders from having my arms extended forward is becoming more noticeable. Even the plug, which had been pleasurable at first, now feels like an unwelcome intrusion.

But worse than the physical discomfort is the emotional impact. Being left alone like this, vulnerable and exposed, is a harsh reminder that I disappointed him. My ego, usually bolstered by Dean's attention and praise, feels thoroughly bruised.

I try to distract myself by replaying some of our more enjoyable scenes in my head, but even that fails to hold my attention for long. My world has narrowed down to this room, this moment, this lesson my Dom wants to teach me.

Just when I think I can't take it anymore, when I'm about to call out my safe word—and pray to God that Dean hears it, wherever he is—I hear the door open again.

“How’s my little fucktoy feeling?” Dean’s footsteps move leisurely across the room as if he’s in absolutely no rush to put me out of my misery.

“Punished,” I grumble, though I don’t dare let the full weight of my indignation bleed into my tone. Heaven knows, he’d take that as an excuse to drag this out a little longer. “I’m feeling well and truly punished.”

He lets slip a deep chuckle, still circling me with that agonizingly slow pace. “I’d love to tell you it’s all over now, but you look so damn pretty all tied up like this…I don’t think I want it to end just yet. You have no idea how much self-control it took to stay behind that window and leave you untouched for so long.”

Window? What does he…? Oh… the mirror.

I fight not to audibly grind my teeth. It’s as if my body can’t decide if I’m feeling irritated by this torment, thoroughly humbled, or achingly aroused. A warm hand traces the swell of my ass, squeezing slightly, and I can’t help the hopeful moan that rises from my chest. I hungrily push back into Dean’s palm, but the movement makes the hook tug inside me, and I yelp as it presses deeper.

"Someone's eager.” He answers my wanton squirming with a sharp smack, I can already picture the scarlet mark he’ll have left behind. "Have you learned your lesson, kitten? About making me wait?"

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