Page 67 of Shadowed Obsession

“That remote doesn’t have a charge, but I’ve got it from here,” he says with a chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine.

Shit.

To ensure I am paying attention, he activates the toy, causing my breath to hitch as the suction on my clit intensifies then suddenly halts.

Motherfucker.

“See? Mmm. I can see how good I’m making you feel through that webcam, give me a wave, Doe.”

I’ll probably come to regret it later, but I flip off the camera instead of waving at him.

He continues, “You will address me as Sir. No matter what I do or say, you cannot react, moan, or scream. If you do, game over.”

I nod in agreement, though I worry I may have bitten off more than I can chew.

“Mmm. One more thing. You cannot come until I say so.¿Tú me entiendes?” he asks, leaving a pause for me to answer.

Umm. Nope.

“Yes, Sir,” I say, eager for the game to begin.

“Good girl. I’ll let you get back to work,” he says as the audio ends.

That’s it?

Knowing that he can hear me, I keep my reactions to myself and proceed with clearing out my inbox. Of course, once I get in my zone, a buzz between my legs throws me off-kilter.

He leads with mercy. Low, steady vibrations radiate my core, and I breathe deeply through the pleasure. When I can resume my work, he adds pressure to my clit, matching the speed against my G-spot, and my head swirls with desire.

“Fuck,” I breathe, hoping he doesn’t notice my reaction.

As if he can read my mind, a text rolls in that I’m nervous to look at.

Scar

Do you want more?

A simple question and a double-edged sword I’d love to impale me. He already knows what I want, getting me to ask for it is his game.

I can imagine him wearing a stupid grin on his face as he enjoys a front row seat to my power struggle.

Yes.

Scar

Yes and?

Yes, Sir.

Scar

Carry on.

As the text lights my screen, the pulsing on both ends picks up and doesn’t relent. The urge to abandon my workload and hide under my desk is strong. My legs tremble as I struggle to keep a straight face. My lips part, but no sound escapes them. Iama good girl, after all. I take a deep breath as I tip my head back into the headrest, and the pulsing stops.

Scar

Throwing your head back is a reaction.

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