Lahat ng Kabanata ng Wet Confessions: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

I only came in for a septum piercing. That’s it. It was supposed to be a five minute stop before meeting my friends for drinks. But when I stepped into The Ink Sanctum and the bell above the door jingled like a warning, I knew something about this place was off. Too quiet. Too charged. The front of the parlour was sleek but shadowy black leather chairs, red lights under the counters, and a wall lined with steel art and erotic body sketches. Music played low and bass heavy, humming through my skin like a heartbeat I hadn’t earned. The receptionist gave me a form. But I barely filled it out. Because that’s when I heard her. Behind the Black Door There was a door in the back labelled Private Marks Only. It was matte black. Soundproofed. With a glowing crimson sign that read: SESSION IN PROGRESS. DO NOT DISTURB. But the moans still got through. Real moans. Shaky. Deep. The kind of sound you don’t fake because it lives in the gut. She whimpered once, then gasped. Louder. Br

I wasn’t supposed to see it. Her drawer. The one on the far left of our built-in wardrobe flush with the cedar wood panels, sleek with polished chrome handles. It looked no different from the rest, except she always locked it. Subtly, but consistently. I’d only caught the glimpse of a tiny key disappearing into her purse once. She told me it was full of “college junk.” Yearbooks. Old letters. Maybe a worn vibrator or two from her wild phase. But tonight, she forgot to lock it. Late Night Stirring It was two-thirty in the morning. The house was quiet. Only the hum of the AC and the occasional creak of settling wood filled the space. She was asleep beside me, arm draped across my chest, her soft lips parted against my skin. Her thigh was hooked over mine possessive, content, as if she hadn’t spent the past hour crying out my name while I fucked her so deep I thought the neighbors would complain. But I couldn’t sleep. Not because of the sex. Because of the way she moaned

It started with a morphine drip. Just enough to dull the pain in my ribs, not enough to silence my craving. I was alone, drugged, sweaty, in a thin hospital gown with nothing underneath and he walked in like a wet dream in scrubs. Nurse Dorian. I’d seen him earlier that day tall, broad shoulders, hands that looked capable of both saving lives and making me forget my name. I thought he smiled at me longer than he should’ve. I told myself it was the meds. But now, at midnight, during a thunderstorm, he was back. Alone. With a tray in his hand and eyes I couldn’t look away from. The Approach “You doing alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low. I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to. He walked to my bedside and adjusted my blanket, his fingers brushing the skin of my collarbone. His touch lingered. I exhaled. My gown had slipped down one shoulder, exposing more skin than was decent. He didn’t pull it up. Instead, he touched my hair, tuck

I never thought breaking curfew would lead to me breaking rules I never knew existed. At Saint Daria’s Academy, nothing ever happened past lights out. Except when it did. It started when my roommate Zinzi found a pack of contraband red wine gums hidden inside the hollow base of her trunk. They weren’t mine, but I didn’t say a word. That night, she pulled me and our floor prefect, Neo, under her blanket with a flashlight, whispering like we were ten year olds again. “Wanna try something?” Zinzi asked, her lips already stained with sugar. Neo rolled her eyes. “You two are going to get us expelled.” Zinzi grinned. “Only if we get caught.” The Dare It started with a game. Truth or Dare. Whispered questions. Risky answers. Dares that made us shiver not from cold but from something else. When Neo dared me to kiss Zinzi, I laughed at first. "Come on. Are you scared?" Zinzi leaned closer, her lips barely brushing mine. She tasted like raspberry and rebellion. The kiss w

It had been a week since the red room. Seven days of waking up wet. Seven nights of dreams where I whispered his name into my pillow. I hadn’t expected him to contact me. But I’d wanted him to. When the next bouquet came, it was black orchids only. And inside, folded on cream parchment: “If you still ache, return. Say yes. And kneel. – E” The note had a time. Midnight this time. I didn't hesitate. Return The Still Bloom was darker this time. The main shop had closed early. There were no flowers in the windows. Just the key waiting under the mat. I let myself in. The stairs still creaked. My heart still raced. And the red room still waited. He was there Elijah, dressed in obsidian again. This time, with a long leather binder in his hand. He didn’t speak. Just handed it to me. I opened it. At the top of the first page: CONTRACT OF OBEDIENCE This document outlines the expectations of a submissive under temporary ownership. The submissive agrees to r