Pure Pleasures (A Collection of short Stories) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

I didn’t sleep that night, not really. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Roman’s face, that slow ugly smile, his finger under my chin like I was already something he owned. By the time the sun came up I felt like shit, eyes gritty, thighs sore from clenching them all night, panties twisted and damp in a way that made me want to slap myself. At 8:57 I was standing outside the study door downstairs, barefoot in an old tank top and sleep shorts because fuck him, I wasn’t dressing up for this. My heart was slamming so hard I could feel it in my back. Part of me still thought about running. Just grabbing my keys and going. But then what? Creditors up my ass, Mom crying, Richard dying broke? No. I was trapped and we both fucking knew it. I knocked once. “Come in.” His voice was already bored. Like he’d been expecting me to show up earlier. I pushed the door open. Roman sat behind the big oak desk that used to be Richard’s, wearing a black shirt open at the collar, sleeves roll

I woke up with the collar digging into my neck and Roman’s cum dried between my thighs. The room was still dark, but I could feel him behind me, heavy arm thrown over my waist like I might disappear if he let go. My pussy ached worse than yesterday. Everything ached. I shifted and the little padlock on the collar clicked softly. This was real, and it's already feeling permanent. “Morning, wife,” he murmured against my hair, his voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down and cupped my sore cunt possessively. Two fingers pushed inside without asking. I hissed but didn’t pull away. He finger-fucked me, pounding deep slowly for a minute, then pulled out and wiped his fingers on my hip. “Time to move your shit in here. All of it. Today.” I nodded. What else was there to do? Mom and Richard were already downstairs when we started. Roman made me strip completely in my old roo. I packed my clothes, my stupid pink bedding, the pictures from college,everything, while still completely

Dr. Amara Khan had been in this hellhole for three weeks. They’d grabbed her from the parking lot outside her hospital after a late shift. One minute she was unlocking her car, the next a bag was over her head and she woke up here--Daniel Cross’s private medical wing. They told her she was the new doctor for his “girls.” Patch them up after he broke them. Keep them alive so he could keep using them. She’d tried to do something right. Last night she slipped one of the newer girls some pills and showed her a weak spot in the fence line and that was when one of the guards saw her. And now she was paying for it. Two big guys dragged her into the exam room. Amara fought the whole way, her white coat flapping, glasses sliding down her nose. She was curvy, with wide hips, heavy tits, smooth brown skin, and she hated how exposed she felt in just her bra and panties under the coat. Daniel was already there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Same cold face from the

Months had passed since that fucked-up wedding night. Sophia barely recognized herself anymore. The girl in the mirror had dead eyes, a leather collar locked tight around her neck, and a belly that was finally starting to swell just a little. Daniel’s baby. He checked every day, hands on her like he owned every inch. Tonight was different. He’d dragged all three of them into his master bedroom. The room was huge with big bed, heavy curtains, and that massive wooden chair in the corner that looked like some kind of throne. Daniel sat on it now, legs spread, wearing just black pants. Shirt off, scars and muscles on full display. The girls knelt on the floor in front of him. Naked except for their collars. Sophia in the middle. Riley on her left, still with that short brown hair, body toned but covered in old bruises. Amara on the right, glasses on, curvy tits hanging, eyes down like she’d learned. “Been waiting for this,” Daniel said. His voice was low and calm. “Sophia’s ready.

Clara woke up sore as hell, Damon’s dried cum crusted on her thighs and the silk sheets tangled around her legs. The chain between her wrists and ankles was short enough that she could barely move without it rattling. She’d spent half the night with his fingers buried inside her pussy, lazily pumping while he slept like a king. Now the room was empty. Sunlight came through those insane floor-to-ceiling windows. The door clicked open and Damon walked in carrying a small tray containing coffee, fruit, and a silver collar with a thin chain leash. Not heavy like some BDSM shit, just elegant and permanent-looking. He set the tray down and unlocked her cuffs. “Eat. Shower. Then I have something for you to wear tonight.” She rubbed her wrists, glaring up at him. “I’m not your fucking servant.” “You are whatever I say you are.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tonight I’ve got three Japanese investors coming for dinner. Big deal. Nine figures. You’re going to serv