A Forbidden Obsessions Quarantine

Hello, Readers! I was sitting in my living room, minding my own business and trying not to freak out about the current pandemic and how to stay safe, when Olivia Watterson McConnell told me that Gabe was driving her crazy while they were stuck in self-isolation, and could I *please* give them something to do. 

So I did. 😉

Hope you enjoy this 6K word story. It is totally and completely NSFW or kids, so please be careful where you read it! Thank you to my beta readers, Jennifer and CJ. Any mistakes are my own. Also, this is a complete work of fiction not based on real people, blah, blah, blah. 🙂 


A Forbidden Obsessions Quarantine

“Princess, if you don’t sit down, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

Olivia Watterson-McConnell glanced at her husband Gabe, who was leaning against the door to the dining room, watching her with hooded eyes. He had that look on his face, the Dom of the Castle one, the one that said he was nearing the end of his rope with all her whinging and if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself punished. She grimaced at him anyway and resumed pacing the length of the hallway in their home—which was also a currently-empty bed and breakfast catering to the kink community. “I cannot believe I’m stuck here under isolation instead of out there doing my job.” She jabbed a finger to the front door, then looked down at her abdomen in disgust. “Damned appendix.”

She was a firefighter paramedic and, with her crewmates running ragged because of the global pandemic that had shut down much of the country and a giant chunk of the world, she felt guilty as hell that she was currently out on sick leave. They needed all the help they could get, and here she was, at home doing…nothing productive.

“Sweetheart, I know you’d rather be working. I get it. I really do.” He scrubbed a hand over his close-cropped dark hair, which had gotten a bit grayer since her emergency surgery, when her appendix had ruptured and caused an infection that she was still fighting off. “But the surgeon told you yesterday during your follow-up appointment that you’re not quite healed enough or healthy enough to be out there with this virus running rampant. You know that.”

He did get it, because he’d been a firefighter before he’d made the decision to change careers. And she did know that, because she’d argued with the surgeon to no avail. She made a noise of disgust. “I know, but I bloody hate that I can’t do a damn thing to help.”

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to live with it.” He pushed away from the door and stopped in front of her, halting her pacing. With a knuckle under her chin, he tilted her face up to meet his serious eyes. “Because if you don’t, if you can’t take it easy both physically and mentally, you’re going to make yourself sick again, and then what? I’ll have to call an ambulance to come take you to the already stretched-thin hospital, and how does that help anyone?” His other hand curled around the back of her neck, its weight warm and calming against her skin, even as his fingers tightened in emphasis.

Still disgruntled, she blew out a deep sigh, knowing he was absolutely correct. “It doesn’t.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled gently, then moved behind her and lightly smacked her ass. “Now, up to bed with you. I’m going to shut off the lights and grab a snack from the kitchen. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Master.” She headed toward the staircase in the kitchen that led up to their personal rooms. Gabe turned and went to the refrigerator, and she took a moment to drink in the sight of her hot husband, his cotton pants hanging low on his hips, and his T-shirt tight across his back as he bent to get something off a bottom shelf. Interest stirred, and she flushed when he called her on it.

“Upstairs now, pet.” His voice was low and filled with both humor and heat. “Before I decide to bring some ginger upstairs with me.” And to emphasize the point, he rattled the produce drawer.

A small sound escaped her mouth—a sound of horror, because figging was so not her favorite thing—and he laughed, that dark laugh that made her shiver deliciously even as she recoiled from his words.

“That’s what I thought. Go get in bed and find something for us to watch on TV.”

She headed up the stairs as ordered, wondering if he’d really punish her if she deliberately disobeyed him and thinking it might be worth it after nearly a month of forced abstinence, but by the time she reached the third floor where their suite was, she was almost out of breath and any thoughts of kinky games fled. That damned infection had taken a lot out of her, and it was going to take a while for her stamina to build back up. It felt like recovering after her back injuries all over again, except this time physical therapy wouldn’t help. Only time and antibiotics would, and Gabe hadn’t been wrong. No matter how much she wished she could work, she wasn’t in any shape to do so, and being continually exposed to a deadly virus while her immune system was compromised would be a really, really, really bad idea.

After a trip to the bathroom to change into a cami and a pair of boxers she’d swiped from Gabe’s dresser, she climbed into bed, settling into the nest of pillows he had arranged for her. She grabbed the remote and turned on the television, grimacing at the news of a widening swath of infected people, and then deliberately changed the station to a cooking show. Gabe enjoyed those, and so did she, and the news only made her feel useless. The chefs were introduced, but before she could see more than the basket ingredients they had to use, her eyes drifted closed.


Gabe caught sight of his sleeping wife the moment he stepped into their room. He muted the television, then moved quietly as he set the tray on the table next to his chair, where he usually sat when he put Olivia on her knees in their attic dungeon.

His chest tightened when he thought about how close—again—she’d come to death when her appendix had ruptured three weeks ago. The call from her captain, saying she’d collapsed and been taken to the hospital, had taken ten years off his life.

He forced breath through his lungs and scrubbed an unsteady hand over the back of his neck. She was better now, so much better, but he was having one hell of a time letting go of the worry. Especially now, with this goddamn virus running rampant. She’d been lucky she hadn’t picked it up already on the job or while she’d been in the hospital.

So, even before the restrictions the government had put on businesses and group gathering sizes, he’d closed Bondage & Breakfast, cancelling two different long-scheduled events and numerous reservations, knowing that she needed to be ultra-careful with any germs at all, never mind this virus, until she was fully recovered. Having guests would’ve compromised that, and he wouldn’t take any chances with his wife’s life.

She was everything to him.

He turned the chair around so it faced the bed, then sat so he could see her. She was curled on her side, her back to his side of the bed…the same way she slept when he curled around her, big spoon to her little spoon. He was so tempted to crawl into bed beside her, to bury his cock inside her the way he often did when they went to sleep, but he wasn’t sure she was ready yet, no matter what her longing eyes had said tonight. He was going to have to talk to her about it, and soon, because if he knew his wife—and he knew his wife—she was going to be hell to live with if he tried to make that decision for her.

Rightfully so, even though he was her Master. He’d learned that much over the time they’d been together.

He picked up the romance he’d been reading, along with his glasses, and skimmed the last few pages to catch back up where he’d left off. His princess loved romances of all kinds, and he’d read them to her in the hospital. To her amusement, he’d gotten hooked. His preference was romantic suspense, and he was halfway through a story their librarian friend Bella had suggested, about an assassin and the FBI agent trying to track him down. A few chapters later, he was drawn out of the story by a sleepy, husky voice.

“You look so sexy in those glasses.” She yawned, garbling her next words. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I guess I was more tired than I thought. What time is it?”

He looked at his phone. “Just after nine. You’ve only been out about half an hour. And don’t apologize. You needed it.”

She shifted onto her back and the sheet slid down, baring her naked shoulders and the tip of a pert breast. Lust stirred and he buried it, but he didn’t tell her to fix the cami she was wearing, or even let her know she was falling out of it. He was rotten like that, but she loved him anyway.

“What’d you bring up for a snack? I’m famished.”

He set his book and reading glasses down and picked up the tray, carrying it to the bed. They still had a fully stocked kitchen, thanks to him forgetting to cancel the last grocery order for the inn while Olivia was in the hospital. Pure dumb luck, but at least they could eat while they isolated. Which was good, because he didn’t want to risk a trip to the grocery store where he might bring germs home. “Crackers and cheese, strawberries and grapes. Some tea. Decaf, since you don’t want to be up all night.”

She pouted as she sat up. “No chocolate?”

He grinned. “Maybe if you’re a good girl.”

“I’m always a good girl.” She grinned back, but then her eyes grew troubled. “I’m not breakable, you know.”

His heart clenched. So much for soon…guess the time was now. He reached out, rubbed a thumb over her cheek as he cupped her jaw. “I know, love. Believe me, I know. That’s one lesson I’ll never forget. But it’s only been three weeks since your surgery, and you still get tired so easily. Are you sure?” He settled the tray over her lap, then studied her.

“I’m sure,” she said, and unable to refuse the clear consent and the need in her eyes, he leaned down and sucked her bare nipple into his mouth, biting down gently.

She gasped. “Gabe.”

Olivia.” He flicked the tip with his tongue, then squeezed her other nipple through her top with his fingers. Not as hard as he would have a month ago—his princess was a masochist who took whatever sensual pain he gave her—but hard enough she sucked in a deep breath. “Feel good?”

She shuddered. “Yes, Master.”

“How good?” Her cheeks flushed deep pink, and he laughed. “That good, huh?” He stood, then tugged the top edge of her cami below her breasts. “Leave it like that.”

And then he went around the edge of the bed and climbed in next to her, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his legs at the ankles, on top of the covers. He hit the mute button and the TV came back to life. “Eat your snack, Princess.”

She worried her lip, and he raised a brow. “Is there a problem?”

Her gaze went sideways. “No, Master.”

Lying was a cardinal sin in his book and she knew it, so he grasped her chin and gave her the look that always made her capitulate. “Want to try that again?”

She flushed, and then the words spilled out. “I thought you were going to feed me, like we do when I’m on my knees.”

He fought back a grin. “Sweetheart, that’s too damn tempting, because then I’m going to want to feed you my cock.” Interest flared in her eyes, and he fought back a groan. “Don’t look at me like that. Face-fucking from a sadist is maybe a bit more than you can handle right now, and I’m only human.” She opened her mouth, probably to read him the riot act, but he held up a hand. “We’re not done for tonight, but no topping from the bottom.”

She sighed dramatically, but picked up a cracker and bit into it, harder than was necessary considering the delicacy of the cracker, snapping it in half with her teeth. And then she did it again.

He winced “Be nice, princess.”

Her eyes went wide. “Me? But I’m always nice, Master.”

He wanted to laugh at her patently fake innocent look, but he fought it back. “You have been spending too much time with Delia and picking up her bratty habits. Go off, though. The punishments will pile up and then, soon, you’ll be all better and I won’t have to be so careful when I mete them out.” He raised a brow and gave her a mocking smile. “I’m looking forward to that.”

His fucking gorgeous, incredibly submissive and not truly bratty wife shivered, her nipples hardening to tight peaks. “I…yes, Master.”

His cock hardened even more. He’d asked the surgeon, someone he knew from the kink scene, what her physical limitations were right now, and vanilla sex wasn’t one of them if she felt ready to try. But no rough sex, no rope, no caning, no over-the-knee spanking or paddling…nothing that would put stress on her incisions or cause bruising or, God forbid, internal bleeding.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t capable of gentle sex and, though it didn’t usually fulfill his darker urges, he had a few ideas that would allow him to retain control and satisfy his need for dominance and hers for submission. Some situations just called for creative solutions, and this was one of them. “You have five minutes to eat. If you’re hungry, you’d best do it now.”


Olivia ate her cheese and fruit and watched Gabe out of the corner of her eye. He was ostensibly watching television, but his gaze seemed turned inward, and she wondered what he was cooking up in that diabolical brain of his. Whatever it was, she was sure to hate it…and love it.

A spurt of strawberry juice dropped onto her breast and, as she went to wipe it off, he grabbed her wrist. Gently, but firmly. “Leave it.”

Her heart started thudding in her chest. She left the juice where it was, and it tickled and aroused as it slowly headed toward her nipple. When he leaned over and licked it off her skin, she made a tiny, needy noise that she couldn’t control.

Then he leaned back, pulling one leg up and resting his arm on it, holding the remote loosely in his hand.

She wasn’t fooled by his nonchalant act, though. She’d seen his cock tenting his cotton pants, and she knew he was aroused as she was. Three solid weeks was a really long time to go without sex, especially when you were used to having it nearly every day, and often more than once a day. Not just for him. For her, too.

He’d said no topping from the bottom, but sometimes a girl had to take the chance. She bit into another strawberry, squeezing it gently as she held it so the juice had nowhere to go but down. And down it went, onto her breast again. Another bite, another squeeze, and more juice flowed.

“Enough, trouble.” Gabe’s voice was amused again. “I’ll be adding that to the list of things you’ll be punished for when you’re fully healed.”

Goosebumps rose in anticipation, though it remained to be seen if these would be actual punishments, or funishments. She hated punishments, but the fun kind? Those, she loved.

He raised a brow. “I assume you’re done eating?”

She nodded. “Yes, Master. Thank you for my snack. I’ll be right back. I need to use the bathroom.”

He stood again, removed the tray and put it on the table, and then came back to bed, drawing her to her feet. With one hand, he grasped her wrists and held them behind her, and then he bent his head and nibbled his was down her neck and shoulder to her breast, licking up the juice as went. “Thank you for my snack,” he murmured, before he released her arms and swatted her ass again. “When you’re done, I want you to come back here. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, Master.”

She used the bathroom, washed her hands and face—and the sticky syrup on her breast—and returned to find him on the bed, leaning against the headboard, holding her cuffs in her his hand. Her heart sped up even as her brain started sliding into the submissive space she loved so much.

He crooked a finger at her. “C’mere, princess. Take off your cami and those boxes you swiped from me. Then I want you on your knees, straddling me.”

She did as directed, moving carefully so as not to pull any of her incisions. When she was on her knees with his legs between her thighs, he put out a hand. She put her wrist in it, palm up, and he buckled the first restraint around it. Then she gave him her other hand, and he buckled that one on too.

When she lifted the first wrist next to the other, he shook his head. “I’m not linking them right now, but I thought you’d like to have them on.”

She scowled. He knew she loved being restrained. Why—

His hand came down on her ass sharply, and his brow raised. “I’m the Dom, and I decide. Yes?”

That made her stomach quiver, and she sank deeper into her submission as she dropped her gaze. “Yes, Master. You decide.”

“Good girl.” He slid down in bed, then cupped her ass with his palms and drew her forward, until she was straddling his face. “Hands on the headboard, and don’t let go. If you let go, everything stops.” He nipped the inside of her thigh, and she shuddered. “You will tell me if you can’t stay in this position, and you will tell me if this hurts in any way. Understood?” He squeezed her ass as though to emphasize his words, his fingertips biting into the skin he’d just reddened.

She gasped. “I will, Master.”

He smiled, then slid his hands from her ass to her thighs, kneading lightly with his fingers. “You smell good, princess. Are you sure some of that strawberry didn’t drip here?” He drew his tongue along her the crease of her thigh, coming closer and closer to her center. His thumbs brushed over her hipbones, keeping away from her newest scars, which were still red and ugly and, like her back, sensitive along the edges. He took his time, nibbling and licking his way around, never touching her where she wanted—needed—his tongue most.

Her legs started shaking, her whole body going tense with need, but when she tried to move closer to his tongue, he stopped what he was doing, tsking. “You know better than that.”

She let out a laugh-sob, and dropped her head to her hands, which were still holding onto the headboard. “Master, please. It’s been so long.”

“But love, we’ve only just started.” His eyes locked with hers, crinkling at the corners. There was heat in them, and amusement, but also concern, which both warmed her and frustrated her. “Are you okay? Do you need to change positions?”

She fought her instinctual reaction to lash out that she was fine—a word he hated because she often hid behind it—and instead took inventory. Her legs felt like spaghetti, and her stomach muscles were quivering, too, which ticked her off. She sighed. “I can stay like this a little longer, but not much.”

Now devilment sparkled in those striking gray eyes of his. “A timed challenge. I like it.”

And then he went back to work, licking and sucking and biting the insides of her thighs, closer and closer until she wanted to scream at him to hurry. Her breath left her in pants, and her hands gripped the headboard so hard she thought she might break it. When he dragged his tongue through her folds and lashed at her clit once and then twice, she moaned. Then he caught her clit gently in his teeth and tugged, and sparks shot off behind her eyelids. Oh, God, she was so close. Another tug…that’s all she needed.

Then he let go, and she let out a frustrated cry. His voice was a low growl. “Do you want to come now, princess?”

“Oh, please, Master. Please.” She shifted her hips forward again, trying to get closer to that dangerous mouth. She didn’t care how it sounded or how it looked. She needed it, needed him, right now.

He put his hands on her hips and shifted her off to the side, his voice mocking and his smile smug. “No, I don’t think so.”

Oh, blast him. The kind, sweet husband who’d waited on her hand and foot over the last few days was gone, and the sadistic Master was back. She whimpered as her body throbbed with need, and he just laughed.


Damn, but he had missed this look on his wife’s face. The one that cursed him while also begging him to please, please let her come. The torment there was…delicious.

“Do not move,” he ordered, getting off the bed again, moving around to her side. He helped guide her off her knees and onto her back. When she was leaning against the pillows, he lifted her hands over her head to the slats in the headboard. “Is this okay? Not too much of a stretch?”

She wiggled a little bit, as though checking. “I’m okay.”

“Same rule as before, princess. You don’t let go unless something hurts.” He flashed a grin at her. “And I don’t mean I need an orgasm right now hurts. That, you just have to deal with.”

Her frustrated moan warmed his heart and hardened his cock to the point where he had to grit his teeth so he didn’t spurt in his pants like a teenaged boy. Normally, he had little problem controlling himself—years as a dominant in the kink scene providing training to other dominants had seen to that. But Olivia whimpering and twisting on the bed with need was an aphrodisiac like no other.

He slapped her thigh lightly. “Settle down, princess, or I’m going to come all over your pretty tits and leave you hanging.”

“Master, no, please.” She sucked in a deep breath and stilled her body as much was humanly possible. “I’ll behave.”

Small tremors shook her, and her stomach muscles quivered. Her pulse pounded wildly in her neck, and as he ran a hand over her hair, her eyes fluttered shut. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally her lips. “That’s my good girl.”

He dragged the small flogger he’d taken from his nightstand over her shoulders and then her tightly beaded nipples. She sucked in a breath and bowed her back, then flinched the tiniest bit. Her eyes flew open and met his. “Yellow, please.”

He stopped immediately. She’d come so far over the last couple of years, using her safeword instead of trying to force her way through any discomfort or pain. “What do you need, princess?”

She wiggled her ass a bit and resettled on the bed. “Just this…I moved wrong. I’m green now.”

He studied her for a moment, nodded, then started back up again, this time flogging her thighs and staying far, far away from her stomach. His strokes were light, not heavy enough to leave a mark, just enough to make her skin more sensitive. Her pretty painted toes curled, but other than that, she stayed still. She made tiny, breathy noises that amped up his arousal, and when he dragged the falls of the flogger over her pussy, she shuddered and swore.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered. She didn’t hesitate, and he grinned. He squirted lube onto his hand, then leaned over and slicked his fingers through her folds, entering her with one finger, then two. When she widened her legs even more, silently asking for the more he usually gave her, he shook his head. “No, this is enough for now. And no coming.” He kept his strokes slow but steady, gently rubbing against the spot inside that drove her wild. He set one knee on the bed, then leaned over and kissed her, stroking her tongue with his, ever careful not to lean on her abdomen.

A shiver ran through her and she gasped into his mouth. “Edge, master.”

To take her over now, or make her wait? Normally there would be no question—he would decide based on what he thought she needed—but this situation was far from normal. With the hand he’d been using to steady himself, he rubbed a thumb over her cheek, locking eyes with her. “I need you to be honest with me. Can you handle one big orgasm at the end, or will that be too much for you to handle?”

He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head through her expressive blue eyes. “I…I don’t know.” Her nose scrunched up. “It’s like the first time we had sex after my accident, when I was worried an orgasm might hurt.”

He’d thought the same thing, and that helped. “Okay sweetness. Trust me?”

Pure love shone from her eyes. “With all my heart.”

Her words slayed him. He kissed her forehead again, then strung butterfly kisses down her sternum and over her still sensitive stomach, all the while gliding his fingers in and out of her body, stretching her slightly, but not enough to hurt. He stroked that sensitive spot once, twice, and then sucked hard on her clit. “Go over, princess.”

She did, a long-shudder and exhaled-breath kind of orgasm, rather than the sweat-flying-everywhere and body-twitching-helplessly kind. But it was beautiful to watch the red flush rise up into her face, to feel her body grasping his fingers, to see the calm settle over her face as she came back down to earth.

He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, stroked the length of her body with his hand. “You can let go of the headboard now,” he murmured, and kissed her nose again as she brought her arms down by her sides. With his free hand, he laced her fingers with hers and squeezed. “How’d that feel?”

“Good,” she said, smiling up at him. “Really good.”

She seemed to have forgotten his fingers were still inside her, but her eyes rounded when, once again, he gently stroked that sensitive spot. “Again, Master?”

“We’ll see,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and adding more lube to them. “Knees up, please. And keep those legs wide.”

With their hands laced together again, he slid his slicked-up fingers back inside her, using his thumb to wiggle her clit. Then he withdrew and added a third finger, keeping his stroke shallow. “Is this okay?”

She gasped. “God, yes. More, please?”

The begging tone made his dick twitch. He squeezed his fingers together and tucked his pinkie in as well, moving slowly. He stretched her for several long minutes, then went back to two fingers to flick the spot she loved so much. She moaned, and he did it again, alternating his careful thrusts between a shallow near-fist that only teased her entrance and a penetrating but gentle two fingers.

Her fingers squeezed around his even as her body fluttered around the ones he had inside her, and he knew she was close, so he rubbed his thumb over her hard clit. “Now, love.”

She cried out this time, her body clenching tightly around his two fingers. He pressed a kiss on her raised leg, resting his cheek on her knee as he watched her come apart again. No pain on her face, thank God, just the blissful look of a satisfied submissive.

But he still wasn’t done with her.


With her brain happily fuzzing around the edges, she looked at her husband, his face resting against her leg, a satisfied smile on his face. “Hi,” he said softly. “You’re back.”

She squeezed his hand, which was still laced together with hers. “I am.”

“How are you feeling?” He rubbed his late-evening, beard-roughened cheek against the inside of her thigh, which sent a delicious shiver sizzling through her body.

“Amazing.” And it was true. For the first time in weeks, she felt almost normal. Thoughts of the world in chaos tried to wedge their way in, but she ruthlessly forced them out. Normalcy was important in times like this, and you grabbed it where you got it. For her, for them, it was her submitting to her Dom. “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure,” he said, kissing and nibbling his way down the inside of her thigh, and then back up again. His thumb was rubbing back and forth over her mound, and her body clenched around the fingers he still had tucked inside her. He raised a brow. “Again, greedy girl?”

Her body went tight. “Please?”

He growled low in his throat. “When you’re feeling better, we’re going to do this again, and then I’m going to use my whole hand and not just four fingers.”

Her face flooded with heat, and though he’d taught her to never be ashamed of her desires, whatever they were, she found herself at a loss for words. “I…fisting? Really? I don’t….”

“You do, and don’t lie to me about that. See what happens when I open my fingers?” He nudged her thighs apart, and then she felt the most incredible sensation. “You love it.”

His fingers stretched her entrance and it hurt, but in the best way possible, like the first time he’d fucked her ass. And, like the masochist she was, it made her crave more, more, more. “Oh, God,” she cried, her head pushing back into the pillow as she raised her hips towards his retreating hand, trying to urge him deeper. “Please don’t stop.”

He eased the stretch and pulled back his hand, kissing her thigh again. “Just a preview, love. When you’re better.”

She wanted to argue but knew he was right—her abdomen was still tender and if it was from the outside, the inside probably wouldn’t appreciate his whole hand. She was lucky he’d even caved enough to do this at all. When she’d first met and fallen for him, he hadn’t wanted to touch her for fear of hurting her. They’d nearly lost each other over that, and it warmed her heart to know he was trusting her to tell him what she was capable of handling. “Promise?”

He cupped a hand behind her head and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “Promise. But now it’s time for bed.”

Bed? But he…. One look at his face said he was in Master mode and not to mess with him, so she nodded.

Once she was settled onto her side, he moved around to his side of the bed. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he shucked his sleep pants. His cock was thick and hard and wet at the tip, and curled up against his stomach as he climbed beneath the covers with her, drawing her against his body. She felt a hand between them, and then his erection was between her legs, sliding through the lube he’d used earlier. He slid back and forth, and they both moaned.

She pushed her ass back against him, and he gripped her hip to stop her. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You are, Master,” she said, fighting to keep still. “But you feel so good.”

He let out a groan that almost had her laughing. “You do too, sweetheart. But if you move, I’m going to blow before I even get inside of you, and that would be a tragedy. So you’re going to be a good girl and let me play.”

Him hanging onto his control by a thread made her feel incredibly powerful. “Yes, Master.”

And play he did, all thoughts of laughter dying. Between her legs, his cock nudged her entrance, gliding through her folds and bumping against her clit. The lube made everything slick and sensual and it didn’t take long for her to be right on the edge again. Then his hand went between her back and his stomach a second time, and his slick finger danced over her asshole.

She jerked hard, dislodging his cock from between her legs, and he slapped her thigh. “Do. Not. Move.” A whimper escaped, but it wasn’t one of pain or distress and he knew it, because he laughed that dark laugh of his.

He whispered in her ear, not that there was anyone else around to hear his depraved words. “When you’re better, I’m going to tie you so tight you can’t wiggle an inch, and then I’m going to tease you until you cry and beg me to let you come. I’m going to clamp those nipples, and then I’m going to fill your ass with the biggest plug you can handle,” he said, sliding just the tip of his thumb inside her, wiggling it gently.

“And then I’m going to fuck your mouth and pull the nipple chain until you’re gagging all over my cock.” He covered her throat with his hand, squeezing gently. She shivered at his words and his touches, held spellbound by the very vivid picture he was painting.

“When you have tears streaming down your cheeks, I’m going to put you on your hands and knees with your face pressed into the bed, and I’m going to fuck you hard and fast, taking what I want from you.” And with that, he slid his cock inside her, his movements slow and gentle, in complete contrast to the words he was saying.

It didn’t matter. His words and actions crashed together in her brain and sent her over the edge again. She cried out, and he pumped his hips only a few times before he spurted inside her, his cock pulsing as she clenched around him. He grunted, holding her close, one arm under hers and across her chest to her shoulder, his mouth against that sensitive spot of her neck. She shivered when he sucked, biting lightly and then laving it with his tongue. His cock was still lodged inside her, and she hoped he wouldn’t move. “I love you,” he said, shifting even closer still.

She kissed his bicep. “I love you, too.”

They lay together, breathing hard, until his heart rate and hers went back to normal.

A few minutes later, he pulled her closer, kissing her temple. “Let me see your hands.” Her heart thudded, but she held them up, and he unbuckled the cuffs. Not what she was expecting him to do—she thought he’d be locking them together, as he sometimes did—and she made a small noise, but he kissed her again. “I know you want to keep them on, but not tonight. We did a lot, and you’re going to sleep hard. I don’t want you hurting yourself with them.”

She sighed, hating how naked her wrists felt, but she snuggled back into him. He was right, again. She hated when that happened. “Yes, Master.”

He tucked his legs closer to hers, and she slid a foot between them, as she always did before she fell asleep. “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow, and if you’re up to it, we’ll do a little more.” He curled a hand around her breast and played with her nipple. “We’re here, we’re alone, and every room in this house is set up for kink and sex. I mean, this is Bondage & Breakfast. And we’re under a shelter-in-place order for at least the next two weeks, so trust me, love, I intend to take advantage of the time we have alone together.” He kissed her neck, then yawned loudly. “Now go to sleep, princess. Tomorrow is another day.”

She yawned in response, and settled into his embrace, closing her eyes. He was right about this, too. No one knew what the future would bring in this new world they were living in, but tomorrow would be another day—another day closer to being healthy and ready to get back out to work, to help where she could. No matter how much she wanted to be out helping right now, this was the place she needed to be. In the cocoon of her husband and Master’s arms, curled up like a spoon, safe and cared-for and loved.



A Forbidden Obsessions Quarantine
Copyright ©2020 by Jodie Griffin