Emma Watson Rule 34 Novels & Stories

‎ ‎I didn’t ask. ‎ ‎The rule was clear. ‎ ‎No other men will touch you. Ever. ‎ ‎The door closed behind us when we arrived at the mansion. ‎ ‎Click. ‎ ‎Locked. ‎ ‎Ethan loosened his cufflinks slowly, deliberately, as though savoring every second. ‎ ‎“Do you know which rule you broke?” he asked quietly. ‎ ‎“Yes,” I whispered. ‎ ‎“Say it.” ‎ ‎I swallowed. “No other men are allowed to touch me.”

Wills Watson looked down at the lady lying on the ground condescendingly: "Listen up, Jany Enderson , for the rest of your life, you will be living here, I want to make you constantly remember your sins, and fear cannot calm down, I want to make you understand that while you are alive, it is more painful than dying. I will make you personally see your family disintegrate and wait for you to see that." After he finished speaking, he turned around and was about to leave. She crawled forward and grabbed the bottom of Wills Waltson 's pants. "Mr. Waltson , please, don't touch my son." Wills Watson laughed coldly: "Do you think that you have the qualifications to beg me?" He lifted his foot, shoo

Seeing that Natalie didn't move, two of Mrs. Watson’s trusted servants forcefully pulled her and dragged her upstairs, pushing her into her room before closing and locking the door. Natalie touched her stinging face and sneered. It seemed that the Watson family didn't know that she had to report whenever she entered or left the Rosewood Estate, just like an elementary school student going out. And if she didn't return at night, wouldn't Mr. Liam send someone to look for her? At that time, the responsibility would fall on the Watson family, not her!

Believe me, one thing though, when I say you will regret doing this, I mean every single word. Do not forget you left everything behind, so all those papers you left on your desk do not belong to you anymore and we are allowed to use them however we want to. Kind regards Mr. Watson What the hell was he up to?! My head was pounding like someone was drilling directly into my brain.

I pointed out. He nodded. "The day I saw you was the first day I left the packhouse." I blinked at his revelation. No wonder his mother thought I was his mate the first time she saw me. Ambrose let out a heavy breath. "Third and last rule, I can break your rules if necessary. This rule, in particular, is unmodifiable, unchangeable and noneditable." I dropped the pen I was holding. I couldn't believe he made a rule like that! I stared at him, shocked to my wits because I have never expected someone to be this wise annoyingly wise! "That can't be!"

“Your life, Zoe, no longer belongs to you. You will follow my rules. If you dare to break them, you will regret it.” His tone was clipped and businesslike. He flipped the first page. “Rule number one: You speak only when spoken to. Ever. Anywhere.” My throat tightened. He waited. “Yes, Mr. Gatsby.” “Rule number two: Your body is mine. That means no refusal, no hesitation, no boundaries unless you’re on your period and I choose to set them.” My stomach dropped. “Rule number three: You will kneel whenever I enter the room unless ordered otherwise.”

He realized she would have to break through the walls of his privacy, to share parts of his life so their charade would appear real. “I just hope you don’t drive me insane, Myriam Bennett. You’re an expert at that,” he muttered. Picking up his iPad, he began drafting his conditions. “There will be no intimacy,” was the first thing he wrote. “You won’t embarrass me in front of my employees,” he typed next. “Nor will you get your way; you’ll follow my rules,” he added. And the list went on. The next morning, well before Myriam’s alarm went off, the music of her phone stirred her awake.

Rule Two: You will answer your phone when I call. Rule Three: No physical relationship. Do not touch me unless I’m plunging to my death. I pause. My pen hovers above the paper. Then I write another line. Rule Four: You will not investigate my past without my permission. That one feels important. And very necessary. Then I add one more. Rule Five: If either of us wants out after a year, we walk away clean. But If I ask you to walk away at any time, you will. Rule Six:

That was the beginning of her new reality. With no job to anchor her to the outside world, no deadlines, no meetings, no escape routes, Emma’s entire existence narrowed to one singular purpose: full-time, total submission to Mark, Jax, and Marcus. The house rules were posted on the fridge the same day simple, uncompromising, and instantly enforced by every man the moment they stepped through the door. **House Rules for Emma:** - Completely naked at all times when Mark is not present. - Collar and plug always in place.

Emma knew exactly what she was doing. It was a small rule nothing in the original contract or the new “wife protocols,” but one they’d reinforced during the cabin weekend like gospel. She was never allowed to touch herself without permission. Not even to adjust the plug. Day eight of what should have been the end of her denial, and here she was, deliberately breaking it in the executive bathroom during lunch.