Page 104 of Pucking Obsessed

The owner, Everett, came to me with the idea, and I funded it.

For years, I’ve earned millions.

Yet I’ve been alone without a family.

I’ve had no one to spoil or spend my money on.

Instead, I’ve supported my BDSM community, who have supported me in more ways than I can repay. I’ve helped to fund and moderate their helpline and been open to hearing their business plans.

I also own a number of properties in Freedom that subs can live in rent free, when they’re between doms.

It struck me early on that subs could be stuck in abusive or difficult situations because they had nowhere to live between relationships.

Most subs aren’t into the twenty-four seven lifestyle. For those who do have this type of relationship in their doms’ homes, however, they often give up a level of independence.

Some stop working.

The sub houses that I set up simply mean that no sub in Freedom will need to stay in a relationship longer than they’re comfortable with because they have no money or roof over their head, if they choose to leave.

Each year, I also offer one full scholarship to a sub in financial difficulties.

Until Shay, I didn’t have a sub who was exclusivelymine.

It mended something in my shattered soul to support the subs around me. It didn’t stop the loneliness or my ache for family.

Only Shay and Robyn have managed that.

They’re my fucking salvation.

Robyn stares wide-eyed at the velvet walls, cases of satin masks, and classical paintings of leashed angels crawling at the feet of demon masters.

Her blush deepens, but her tongue swipes out to wet her lips.

She’s fucking turned on.

But then, my dick hardened the moment that we stepped into the store. The scent of leather from the costumes is drugging just like from my favorite equestrian shops.

I itch to run my fingers along the coiled bull whips that are presented along the back wall like dangerous snakes.

The scent and sights in Everett’s shop are effortlessly pushing me into dom headspace.

Finally, Robyn lets go of the safety of my sleeve.

I grimace, attempting to smooth out the creases.

“At least it’s empty in here.” Robyn traces her fingers over the costumes that are hanging on the rack: French maid, sexy witch, and werewolves.

“What a coincidence.”

Robyn glances over her shoulder at me. “You arranged this.”

“I know the owner. Everett is a great guy. He agreed to close the business for us. We have an hour to browse and choose something that beats a single pair of flashing horns.”

My stomach twists at the memory of my first college Halloween.

It’s bittersweet.

I was excited to be at the party with Robyn. I was secretly in love with her, fucking pining. I was her best friend and I couldn’t disappoint her by not turning up.

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