100 DRIPPING DREAMS의 모든 챕터: 챕터 261 - 챕터 270

Fucking in between trips.Chapter 1Robb.I was the one behind the wheel when the rain finally stopped falling. Mike sat in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dash like he owned the car. He didn’t. Dad did. Or he used to, until he handed us the keys and said he and Linda were grabbing a faster rental for the last stretch. That left me and Mike at three hundred miles on a wet highway all alone in the car.“You’re drifting,” Mike said.“I’m not drifting.”“You just crossed the line.”“You want to drive?” I fired back instantly.“Nah. You’re better at it anyway.” He opened the window an inch and the cold air cut through the stale heat. “You see that exit for the state park? We should’ve taken it. Would’ve been a prettier route.”“It would’ve added forty minutes to our drive.”“And we would’ve gotten something worth looking at instead of trees and trees and trees.” He stretched out “Dad and Linda are probably already at the hotel. Clean sheets. Real coffee. Meanwhile we’re out he

Fucking in between trips.Chapter 3RobbI didn’t move when he said it. My arms stayed under the pillow. The dark made everything louder. The ice machine outside. The soft drag of rope across the carpet. Mike’s breathing.He stepped closer. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”“Mike.”“I know.” His voice stayed low. “Just stay still.”The belt went around my wrists first. Not tight enough to cut, but firm. He looped the rope through the headboard posts and pulled until my arms stretched. Then he moved down the bed. Ankles next. He bent my knees a little so the rope could hold them apart and tied them off to the frame. The last length of rope crossed my back and he tired it under my chest. I laid face down and open. Practical. Fast. Like he’d thought about it for a long time.I tested the freedom my body had to move. There wasn’t much.“Comfortable?” he asked.“No.”“Good.”His hand came down hard across my ass. The sound cracked through the room. I sucked in air through my teet

Held Between the Beams.Chapter 2Sokka.George kept the pressure steady. His knuckles brushed my side again as he pulled the end through and tightened the rope.“Breathe normal,” he said. “I’m going to keep going. Tell me if anything pinches.”“I’m fine.”He nodded and worked another pass lower, just under my ribs. The rope settled warm against the shirt. I could feel every shift of his hands. Each time he finished a section he asked the same quiet question.“Still good?”“Yeah.”My arms were starting to feel the restriction. He guided them out to the sides, and secured the wrists with clean, simple cuffs that linked back to the main body of the harness. The beams took the weight when he tested them. “Shirt’s in the way,” he said after a minute. “Can I take it off?”I swallowed. “Go on.”He took my shirt up carefully, sliding it over the ropes. Cool air hit my skin. George’s hands returned immediately, adjusting, smoothing, checking. He didn’t rush. When the rope sat properly across

The Basement Contract.Chapter 1I never planned on moving back home at twenty-six. One minute I was in a flat with a mate who stopped paying his share, the next I was carrying boxes up the front path while Mum held the door open and tried not to look too pleased. Anderson, my dad, just nodded once and took the heaviest box from my hands without saying much. That was three weeks ago. Since then I’d spent most of my time in the spare room scrolling job listings and feeling like a failure.Friday evening dad found me in the kitchen staring into the fridge.“You free this weekend?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.“Depends. What for?”“Basement. That old workshop’s been collecting dust since before you left for uni. Thought we might clear it out. Make it useful again.”I shut the fridge. “You serious?”“Yeah. Nothing fancy. Just get the rubbish out, sweep, fix the light. See what’s underneath.”I almost said no. Then I thought about another day alone upstairs and shrugged. “A

The Basement Contract.Chapter 3Monday evening the basement felt finished. We’d spent the last couple of nights padding the bars and testing every joint with until Anderson was satisfied nothing would shift. The leather straps hung ready. The rope sat coiled on its hook. The soft hood waited in its bag on the workbench beside a short stack of papers I hadn’t noticed before.Anderson locked the door behind us with a quiet turn of the key. The click sounded louder than it should have.“Sit down a minute,” he said.I sat on the edge of the platform. He picked up the papers and held them out.“Read this properly. Don’t skim.”I took the pages. The heading was simple: Agreement Regarding Use of the Basement Space. Underneath came clear paragraphs about consent, hard limits, safewords, how long the arrangement would last, and what the room was for. It wasn’t flowery. It just laid everything out in plain language. I read it once, then again slower. My hands stayed steady but my pulse didn’t