جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 70

Emma woke to the weight of Marcus’s⁠ wa‍rm arm across her swollen belly at 2:47 a.m. The apartment⁠’s small heater‌ hummed s‍oft⁠ly, pushing a faint d‌raft over h‌er exposed skin. Twenty-th‍r⁠ee wee‍ks had t‌urned her into a slow-moving‍ v⁠ess‌e⁠l‌, he⁠r b⁠elly now a heav⁠y, rounded sphere that rested against the mattress even when she‌ lay flat. The silver collar lay l‍oose a‌round her th‍ro⁠at, the tiny bell silent for once. Jax ha⁠d passed out‌ on the f‌ar side of‌ the b⁠ed after the‌ long night of slow, delibe‌r‌ate fuck‌ing⁠, hi⁠s breathi‌ng deep and eve‌n. Ma‍rc‍us, however, lay awake, fingers t‍racin‌g lazy circles along the tau‌t dar⁠k l⁠ine that r⁠an⁠ from her sternum to the navel, as if the‍ stretch‌ marks themselves h‍eld answers he h‌adn’t found in the bank stateme⁠nts or the crib assembly inst‌r‌uctions.She s‍lipp⁠ed fro‌m the bed without a so‌und, bar‍e feet paddi⁠ng across the hardwood. The plug in her ass felt heavie‌r tonight, a deliberat‍e remi‌nder‍ of the fresh b

Emma sat on the edge of the bathroom sink at 7:48 a.m., one leg hooked over the edge, the other planted firmly on the tiled floor. The thick black plug in her ass had been swapped for a fresh, heavier silicone one just before they left the bedroom Jax’s idea, left inside her the whole drive to the corner store and the short walk back. Her belly, now at twenty-four weeks, rested heavy against her inner thigh, the dark line of stretch marks catching the fluorescent light like a map of every change she’d chosen. The silver collar rested against her throat under the open collar of her robe, the tiny bell silent for now. Milk still leaked in slow, warm trails down her inner arms, the heavy training from yesterday making every small movement feel deliberate.She dialed the number from the bathroom extension, the phone propped on a rolled towel so the camera angled just right. Jax had left the laptop open on the kitchen counter downstairs, Marcus in the truck waiting at the curb. The call co

Mark’s key turned in the lock at seven sharp. The basement door swung inward, light spilling down the stairs in a soft golden rectangle. Emma was still on the futon, legs parted, the spot between her thighs glistening from the earlier hours of waiting. She didn’t move. She simply looked up at him, the collar tight against her throat, her hair loose and tangled from the pillow.He stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and locked it with the familiar click. The sound echoed once and then the basement felt smaller, sealed, theirs. Mark crossed the three steps in two strides and stopped in front of her. He didn’t speak right away. He simply reached down, hooked two fingers under the hem of her sweatpants, and tugged them slowly down her legs until they pooled around her knees.“Fresh,” he said, voice low. “Been wearing it all day?”Emma nodded once. The words *Emma is yours* were still fresh on her tongue from the night before, but she kept them inside. She didn’t need to say them out

The basement door clicked open at seven-fifteen exactly. Emma was already dressed in the deep emerald-green dress Mark had chosen for her soft silk that skimmed her curves and stopped just above the knee, the neckline cut low enough to show the thin silver band of the collar. She had left her hair loose, the waves still damp from the quick shower he had ordered. Her feet were bare; the thick silver ankle bracelet he had locked on earlier clinked softly when she shifted her weight.Mark stood in the doorway, black suit jacket open, shirt unbuttoned at the collar to show the faint scar there. His eyes moved over her slowly, taking in every detail. The collar, the dress, the way her nipples had already tightened against the silk from the thought of what was coming. He didn’t speak. He simply crossed the room, cupped her chin, and tilted her face up.“Remote is in your purse,” he said. “Jax has it. You will stay exactly as you are until I tell you to move.”Emma’s pulse jumped. She had ex

The basement door opened at eleven-seventeen, the single bulb above the stairs still burning low. Emma was on her back again, cuffs locked to the headboard, legs stretched wide by the leather straps. The thick silver plug Mark had left in her earlier that evening had been replaced by the new one an even heavier stainless base that pressed insistently against her. The collar stayed exactly where it always did, locked tight, the tag resting cool against her skin. She had not been allowed to remove it all night.Mark stepped in, closed the door, and turned the deadbolt with a single sharp click. He had been upstairs the whole time, working in his home office on a contract that had kept him away longer than usual. Now the house was silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator. He crossed the room without a word, stripped out of his shirt and slacks, and stood naked at the foot of the futon. His cock was already hard, thick and flushed.He didn’t speak. He simply climbed onto the