Carolina lifted her gaze. “Because I’ve already given you my fear. Now I’m giving you my choice.”
He stopped behind her. His hand brushed the back of her neck, and she felt a shiver—not fear, but anticipation. “Then let’s begin. Obedience isn’t about breaking you. It’s about showing me what you’ll give freely.”
When he stopped, he set the brush aside. His hand rested on her back, warm and still. “You’ve done well,” he murmured. He unbuckled the cuff, rubbed her wrists, helped her sit up. She was shaking, but her eyes were clear. Tushy - Carolina Sweets - Obedience
“Good evening, sir,” she replied, eyes down.
Carolina smiled, a little raw, a little proud. “I’ll be early, sir.” Carolina lifted her gaze
By twelve, tears blurred her vision. By twenty, she was whimpering, but she never said red . Each number was a gift she gave him—control, trust, her own pride laid bare.
“Same time next week?” he asked.
Again. Harder. “Two.”
“Good evening, Carolina,” he said, voice low. His hand brushed the back of her neck,
Carolina knew the rules before she knocked on the door. She’d read the contract twice, signed it with a steady hand, and chosen her outfit with care—a black silk dress that ended mid-thigh, no jewelry, her hair pulled into a tight, obedient knot. This was a game of power, but she intended to win by playing by his terms.