Lahat ng Kabanata ng VELVET CONTROL : Kabanata 191 - Kabanata 200

Catriona I went back to Judge Robert Warren’s chambers two days later, the weight of Shawn’s full confession still pressing on my chest like a stone I couldn’t set down. The room smelled of aged leather and polished wood, the familiar comfort of law books lining the walls. Judge Warren looked up from his desk when I entered, his sharp, intelligent eyes softening with quiet understanding as he saw the exhaustion and determination on my face. “Catriona,” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “You’ve made a decision, haven’t you?” I nodded, sitting across from him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. “I have. I need to become a prosecuting attorney. Or at least move into a stronger, independent legal position before I agree to marry Shawn. I can’t walk into that kind of commitment feeling this vulnerable. I need a shield. Something he can’t easily climb over or dismantle if things fall apart. I don’t want to become another Carlisle — erased and hidden when I’m no longer convenient

Catriona The decision to pursue a federal prosecutor position felt like the first real breath I had taken in weeks. I spent the next few days quietly preparing while balancing my demanding EVP responsibilities at Reid Capital. Judge Warren had already reached out to Judge Elizabeth Harlan at the Department of Justice, and a preliminary conversation had been scheduled for the following week. I reviewed the standard qualifications again late into the night, making detailed notes on my tablet. Active bar membership in good standing, a J.D. from an accredited law school, at least three to four years of post-J.D. legal experience with a strong preference for trial work or criminal prosecution. Rigorous FBI background checks, security clearance, financial history review, and a demonstrated commitment to public service were non-negotiable. My EVP role at Reid Capital gave me significant executive-level legal strategy and governance experience, which was valuable, but I knew I needed mo

Shawn Reid Catriona was busy building her empire. She spent the evening buried in her laptop, reviewing application materials for Assistant U.S. Attorney positions, drafting strong arguments for her candidacy, and preparing for her upcoming meeting with Judge Elizabeth Harlan. Her focus was intense, admirable, and frustrating. She was creating a shield, a professional wall I couldn’t easily climb. I respected it. I feared it. And tonight, it left me restless and aching. Phase V was fully integrated, but the aftershocks still demanded release. The system pushed for physical stabilization, craving an outlet to bleed off the excess energy. I stepped onto the balcony and dialed Amara Kline, hoping for a quick, easy release like before. “Amara,” I said when she answered, keeping my voice low. “It’s Shawn. I need you tonight.” There was a pause, then her voice came through, hesitant but tempted. “Shawn… I’m still on the outskirts. Client dinner ran late. I won’t be back in the c

Shawn Reid The deception was eating me alive from the inside. Every night I waited until Catriona fell into deep sleep, her breathing slow and trusting, before I slid behind her. The system made it easy — it quieted my guilt just enough to let me proceed, flooding me with dopamine and artificial calm the moment I entered her. But the man beneath the programming knew exactly what I was doing. I was stealing from her. Not just her body. I was stealing her consent. Her awareness. The choice to say yes or no. Every time I pulled her panties down while she slept, every time I thrust into her sideways or from behind, feeling her unconscious body welcome me with that familiar tight heat, I was crossing a line I had sworn I would never cross again. The psychological toll was brutal. During the day, I was the devoted fiancé — attentive, supportive of her prosecutor ambitions, fighting the system’s lingering impulses with everything I had left. I would watch her work at the desk, head

Catriona I waited for the dream to come back. Every night I lay beside Shawn, pretending to sleep, wondering if the vivid, intense dreams would return. The ones where he fucked me from behind, spooning me tightly, his thick, beaded cock stretching me open while his hand rubbed my clit with perfect pressure. The ones that left me waking up wet and aching, my body craving him even as my mind tried to build walls. Tonight, the dream came again. It started the same way — his body pressed against my back, warm and solid. His hand sliding under my camisole, cupping my breast, pinching the nipple until it hardened. I moaned softly in the dream, pushing back against him. Then I felt him pull my panties aside, the head of his cock rubbing along my folds, coating himself in my wetness. He pushed forward, entering me slowly, filling me completely. It felt so real. The stretch. The fullness. The way the metal beads dragged against my inner walls with every thrust. I gasped, hips movin