Page 155 of Pucking Obsessed

I’m lying on my back. Something rough like rope is wound around my wrists.

My heart is beating too fast. It hurts to breathe. My lungs are burning.

I struggle hard not to tip into a panic attack.

Being on the receiving end of bondage is a hard limit for me. Heine is aware of that. Even with my consent, it wouldn’t feel pleasurable.

Panic claws at the back of my throat.

I can’t bear being restrained like this.

Memories flood over me of how I came around as a teenager at night in bed surrounded by three strange men. They were yelling at me, before they dragged me out of bed and tied my hands behind my back with plastic handcuffs.

I was terrified and screaming.

Then my own parents and older brother let these men kidnap me and throw me into a van. I only then learned that I was being driven to a discipline school.

It was the most traumatic night of my life.

“I know that you’re awake,” Heine says, sounding amused. “I saw your finger twitch. Are we playing games already? Don’t be boring, Sir.”

I wince.

Slowly, I open my eyes. Then I suck in a sharp breath.

I’m lying on the crinkled black plastic of the large bed in the middle of the basement playroom in my own Freedom Mansion.

Fury washes through me.

It’s not enough to kidnap me. Heine needs to violate the private space of my own home as well.

There are no windows in this vast underground space.

The bed has a metal headboard with bondage points, a wooden pillory at the end, and a cage underneath. The room is filled with bondage furniture, including a St. Andrew’s cross, racks, and cabinets that hold my BDSM equipment. The floor is black and rubber. The roof sparkles, as if with stars.

The walls are white with large mirrors and LED light strips, which can be set to different colors to match the mood that I’m going for.

Now, Heine has set them to red.

The room is laid out as it was, during my short scene with Heine.

It has to be deliberate.

“Don’t call me,Sir,” I growl. “You haven’t earned that right. Plus, is it boring if I strangle you?”

I struggle to sit up but I can hardly raise my head off the pillow.

“Breath play. You know that I’d enjoy that.” Heine is perched on the side of the bed next to me.

“I’m not playing, Charles. I never was. Untie me.”

Heine rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

He pushes his honey hair out of his face. He has deep shadows under his eyes. He’s only dressed in feathery white wings and a loin cloth.

The outfit looks familiar.

I struggle to focus through the fuzziness in my mind. My temples are throbbing. I clench my teeth.

---