The Jealous Wife

Writers Note:

This story is a little more on the BDSM and erotic side. Unlike Unravelled which had been started on 24th March 2025. This whole story is a little small (about 60k words, incomplete but i am writing it) so the uploads would be a little more spaced about 2 weeks apart. The chapters here would a little longer than Unravelled (8k -10k). Hopefully you would enjoy this. Any criticism and feedback would be appreciated.

Tags:

Wife, friend, jealousy, BDSM, rough, cunnings, orgasm control, public, vibrator, power play, bondage, new sub, female submissive, male dominate, maledom, femsub

Characters:

Wife - Jessica a 32 year old female (works in IT company) brunette, petite, sexy, 5ft 8', c cup tits and a very tight ass

Husband - Robert a 34 year old male (is a civil and criminal lawyer)brown hair, white,5ft 11', 8 inch dick,

Amy - A 34 year old female (works with Amy and is her work best friend)redhead 5ft 6', d cup, slim, big ass

Juliet - A 31 year old female blonde 5ft 9', d cup, wide hips and slightly on the larger side.

____________________________________________________________

Robert

The day was as good as any. I was at an office party hosted by my wife's workplace, and she looked absolutely stunning—elegant and enticing. I couldn't help but admire her from across the room. Then, out of nowhere, I spotted someone familiar, someone from my past—Amy. It had been years since we last spoke. The surprise of seeing her again was almost nostalgic, and before I knew it, we were deep in conversation, catching up on lost time.

Jessica

I was thrilled that Robert had come to the party with me. He was looking at me in that way that made my heart flutter, his gaze filled with admiration and something more—desire. But then, out of the blue, Amy, my co-worker and one of my best friends, started talking to him even before I had the chance to introduce them. And worse—Robert was talking to her animatedly, as if they were old friends. A strange feeling coiled inside me, a mix of anger and something much sharper—hurt. How did my husband know a woman I had been working with for nearly a year and had grown so close to? My stomach twisted as I walked toward them, my smile carefully in place but my mind racing. "Hey, babe," I said sweetly, my eyes darting between them. "Do you know Amy from somewhere?" Robert glanced at me, a slight hesitation before he answered, "Uh, yeah. We went to school together." I turned to Amy, still holding my polite facade. "Hi, Amy. You look nice." Amy smiled. "Thanks, Jessica. So do you." I folded my arms. "What were you two talking about?" Amy explained that she had just moved back to town because the daily commute had become too much for her. I nodded, but the unease inside me remained.

Robert

Jessica's emotions were always easy to read, and right now, she was trying hard to stay calm. But I knew her too well. Her face was slightly flushed—not from the warmth of the room, but from something stronger. She was frustrated. Jealous. She looked at Amy like she had done something wrong just by talking to me.

I decided to smooth things over. "So, Amy," I said, "since you just moved back, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask Jessica or me. We'd be happy to help."

Then, I turned to Jessica and leaned in so only she could hear me. "Jess, please don't overthink this. I'll tell you everything when we get home, okay?"

She let out a small sigh and nodded. But then, as if to make a point, she wrapped her arm around mine possessively. And that's how we stayed for the rest of the night—together, but with unspoken words between us.

As the party continued, I checked my watch. I had to work early the next morning, and I was starting to feel tired. I glanced at Jessica, who looked a little more relaxed now, and we shared a quiet understanding.

After saying our goodbyes, we stepped outside into the cool night air and headed to the car. I knew we still had things to talk about, but that conversation would have to wait until we were alone.

3rd Person(narrator)

Robert glanced at her, then back at the road, exhaling through his nose. "Jess, say something."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Oh, now you want me to talk? That's rich."

He sighed. "Come on, don't do that."

"Don't do what, Robert?" she snapped, finally turning to face him, her eyes burning with anger and hurt. "Pretend it's not a big deal that my coworker—someone I see every single day—used to be with my husband?"

Robert's grip tightened on the wheel. "It was years ago. And I didn't sleep with her."

"Oh, yeah? And how long were you with her?"

"Two months."

Jessica let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Two months. Sure. And how many others were there?"

"Jess—"

"No. Tell me." She turned fully toward him, her voice lower now but trembling with emotion. "I want to know. All of them."

Robert kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched. "That's not a good idea."

He stayed quiet for a long moment before finally saying, "You know it would hurt both of us, Jessica."

"I don't care," she shot back. "Because if I have to live with your past walking into my life, showing up at my office parties, then I should at least know what else I might run into. I deserve that much, don't you think?"

He let out a slow, measured breath. "It's not going to change anything."

"Maybe not," she admitted, voice softening just slightly. "But I still need to hear it."

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Robert didn't argue this time.

When they pulled into the driveway, Jessica was the first to step out. She slammed the door behind her, stormed inside, and whirled to face him the moment he closed the door.

"We take turns," she said, arms crossed, her voice trembling but firm. "I go first. Then you."

Robert rubbed his temple, exhaustion washing over him. "Are we seriously doing this?"

"Yes."

He exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. "Fine."

Jessica squared her shoulders. "James. He was my first boyfriend. We met in college. Dated for eleven months. He was sweet, but… nothing special. It didn't work out—we wanted different things in life."

Robert gave a small nod. "Amy. My first girlfriend. Met in high school. Two months. It was puppy love. Didn't go anywhere, and I didn't sleep with her."

Jessica tensed at hearing her name again but forced herself to nod. "Okay. Next was Alex. We dated for two and a half years. He moved away for work to the next state. We're still friends, but we haven't talked in a while."

Robert frowned. "Still friends?"

Jessica let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, you don't get to be jealous. Not yet. Your turn."

He hesitated, his voice reminiscent and pained. "Emma. She was my first. Lost my v-card to her. We were together for a year and a half. We… we were engaged."

Jessica blinked, her arms loosening around herself. "Engaged?"

Robert nodded, his voice quieter now. "She died. Car accident. The other driver was drunk."

Jessica's breath hitched. "Oh."

For the first time that night, her anger wavered, replaced with something softer. She could see it in his eyes—the pain he still carried.

"I didn't know," she said, her voice smaller. "I'm sorry."

Robert gave a small nod but didn't say anything.

Jessica swallowed hard, then continued. "Henry. Four months. He was abusive. He cheated on me."

Robert's jaw tensed. "Jess…"

"I don't need your sympathy," she said quickly, looking away. "I got through it."

He went quiet, then forced himself to move on. "After Emma… I wasn't okay. I had a… phase. It lasted for two months."

Jessica's breath caught. "What do you mean you had a phase?"

"I slept with nine women on a regular basis… sometimes with four in a day."

She took a step back. "Nine?"

Robert nodded, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "They all knew about each other. It wasn't lying or cheating. It was a friends-with-benefits sort of thing. It was just… a distraction, a coping mechanism. I don't drink, so this is how it happened. It was a bad one."

Jessica let out a slow, shaky exhale. "God, you had a harem, and you got jealous over me being friends with an ex? Not to mention you're still friends with Amy."

A thick silence stretched between them.

"That's it for me. You were the one after Henry," she said finally.

Robert looked at her, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "You've got more, haven't you?" Jessica said, surprised.

"Stacy."

Jessica frowned. "Who's Stacy?"

"Emma's cousin. She helped me out of that dark place. We dated for seven months. She was kind, patient, and… I thought maybe I was healing. But in the end, I wasn't ready, and she deserved better than what I could give her."

Jessica studied him carefully, something shifting in her expression. "Did she love you?"

Robert sighed. "I think she did. And maybe I could've loved her too if things had been different. But it didn't work."

Jessica nodded slowly, digesting that. "And after her?"

"Juliet."

Jessica's brows knitted together. "What about her?"

"We were together for a year. Married for seven months," he said, his voice tight. "She was manipulative. Abusive. Got pregnant." He exhaled sharply.

Jessica stared at him, her lips slightly parted. "Robert, what the fuck? You never told me about an ex-wife, and you abandoned a kid because she was abusive?"

"NO. She cheated on me and got pregnant with another man's kid. We were dating for five months when she told me she was pregnant. A month in, I married her, but on the day of delivery, the baby was Hispanic and looked nothing like me. I got a DNA test and filed for divorce after proving I wasn't the father. She was after my life. I have a restraining order against her."

Jessica swallowed. "You know there's a Juliet who just joined HR two weeks ago."

Robert looked at her, staring. "Juliet Keats?"

Jessica nodded slowly.

"Fuck me," Robert whispered.

"Jess, please stay away from her. She likes to make up stories and has a tendency to turn faithful, good women into cheating, lying whores."

Jessica swallowed and gave a small nod. "And after her?"

Robert hesitated. "Monica. Seven months. She was… different."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"

Robert ran a hand through his hair. "Let's just say the dynamic shifted."

Jessica blinked. "You mean she—"

"I don't think you'd want those details."

Jessica groaned, rubbing her face. "You know what? I think I've heard enough."

Robert let out a tired chuckle.

Jessica looked at him then—really looked at him. He wasn't just the man she knew. He was a collection of wounds, of ghosts, of pasts that still left shadows on his face. And she was, too.

"Amy…" she began hesitantly. "There's nothing left there, right?"

Robert stepped closer, his voice steady. "Absolutely nothing."

Jessica held his gaze for a long moment. She wanted to believe him. And maybe she did.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "God, I feel like I just walked through a minefield."

Robert gave a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Same here."

Jessica ran a hand through her hair, then sighed. "I don't know what to do with all this information."

"Neither do I," Robert admitted.

She looked at him again, softer this time. Maybe this wasn't about knowing everything. Maybe it was about knowing that despite all of it, they had still chosen each other.

Jessica inhaled slowly, then exhaled. "Okay."

It wasn't closure. It wasn't peace. But for now, it was enough.

They headed to bed and didn't talk much.

A WEEK LATER

A week had passed since that heavy night, but Jessica still couldn't shake their conversation. The shock of Robert's past had faded, but certain names still lingered in her thoughts—one more than the rest.

It was late evening, and they sat on the couch, side by side but lost in their own thoughts. Robert was reading through case files, his brow furrowed in focus, while Jessica scrolled through her phone, barely paying attention to the screen.

She shifted slightly, her fingers playing with the edge of her sweater.

"Robert?"

"Mmm?" he murmured, eyes still on the pages in front of him.

She hesitated, then asked, "Can I ask you something?"

At the sound of her voice, Robert looked up right away, setting the file aside. "What's wrong?"

Jessica bit her lip, unsure for a moment if she should even bring it up. But the question had been stuck in her mind for days.

"Monica," she finally said. "I keep thinking about what you told me."

Robert's expression shifted, his body tensing slightly. "What about her?"

Jessica exhaled, choosing her words carefully. "You said she was… different. That the way things worked between you changed. What did you mean?"

Robert sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Jess…"

"I'm not trying to start anything," she said quickly. "It's just—when you talked about her, it felt… different. Not like when you talked about Emma or Juliet. And now I can't stop wondering."

Robert ran a hand over his face, staying quiet for a moment before finally answering.

"When we started dating, Monica was older than me—by eight or nine years. And she was in charge. She liked being in control," he admitted. His voice was steady, but there was something cautious about it. "And back then… I didn't care. I wasn't in a good place, so I just went along with it."

Jessica watched him closely. "And then?"

He swallowed. "Then things changed. The control she had over me… I don't think she wanted it anymore. One night, she asked me to take the lead instead. And after that, it just became the way things were."

Jessica thought about that for a moment. "So, she wanted you to be in control?"

Robert nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Jessica tilted her head. "And that bothered you?"

He dragged a hand through his hair. "It wasn't that. It was the reason why. She told me she trusted me. That I made her feel safe. And it felt… different. More real than anything I had with other women at that time." A quiet laugh left him, almost bitter. "And back then, real was the last thing I was looking for."

Jessica's fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. "Did you love her?"

Robert shook his head without hesitation. "No. I cared about her, but it wasn't love." He paused, his expression softening. "But it was the first time after Emma that I felt like someone really saw me. Not just the version of me they wanted."

Jessica swallowed.

"Why did you break up?" she asked.

Robert sighed. "She was the one who suggested it. She was older and wanted different things. And honestly… I think she knew before I did that I wasn't ready for something real."

Jessica leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath. "Huh."

Robert studied her. "What?"

A small, thoughtful smile crossed her lips. "It's just funny. You talk about these women from your past like they were just parts of your story. But I don't think you realize that, for some of them, you were a part they never forgot."

Robert held her gaze for a long moment before smirking. "Are you jealous?"

Jessica rolled her eyes but smiled. "No. I have you now."

His smirk faded into something softer. "Yeah. You do."

She shifted closer, resting her head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"Okay," she murmured. "No more questions for now."

Robert chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Good. Because I was starting to feel like I was on trial."

Jessica smirked. "You're a lawyer. You should be used to it."

He laughed, lighter this time, as if something had lifted from his shoulders. "Touché."

And for the first time in days, the past didn't feel quite so heavy.

TWO DAYS LATER

Jessica told herself it was just curiosity. Nothing more.

But as the hours turned into days, the thought of Robert being in control refused to leave her mind. It settled deep inside her, a secret thrill she hadn't known she wanted.

She had kept her face neutral when they talked about Monica—nodding at the right moments, asking just enough questions to seem casually interested. But inside? Inside, something curled tight in her stomach, a slow, spreading heat she couldn't quite name.

She had always known Robert as calm, steady, controlled. The man who could silence a room with just a look, who could own a courtroom without ever raising his voice. But now, she was picturing him differently.

Picturing him taking control.

Picturing him giving orders.

Picturing herself… obeying.

A shiver ran down her spine, her thighs pressing together instinctively.

Jessica had never considered herself the type to like that sort of thing. She liked balance. She liked knowing what to expect. But now? Now, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was the way Robert had said it so casually—"She asked me to take the lead instead. And it just… kept happening."

How exactly had he taken the lead? What had that meant for him? For them?

The more she thought about it, the more she noticed things she had overlooked before. The way Robert's hand rested at the small of her back when they walked into a room. The way his voice dropped lower when he was serious. The quiet confidence in his movements—steady, sure, always in control.

Had she never seen it before? Or had she just never let herself see it?

That night, as they got ready for bed, Jessica caught herself staring.

Robert stood by the dresser, unbuttoning his dress shirt, his tie already tossed over the chair. His undershirt stretched against his arms as he moved, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly.

For the first time, she wondered—what if he wasn't always so gentle with me?

What if he didn't ask?

What if he just took?

Heat pooled low in her belly.

Jessica swallowed hard and quickly climbed into bed, turning her back to him.

This was ridiculous.

She was getting worked up over nothing.

But when Robert slid into bed beside her, his hand resting on her hip as he pulled her close, she had to bite her lip to keep from blurting out the thoughts racing through her mind.

TWO MORE DAYS LATER

By now, it wasn't just curiosity.

Jessica had caught herself watching Robert differently, noticing every little thing—the way he argued on the phone, the quiet authority in his tone, the way he guided her with a hand at her back.

She liked it.

More than she was ready to admit.

Her body liked it too.

She had been so worked up that she had to touch herself in the shower just to clear her head. Just to function through the day.

And tonight, as they sat in the dimly lit living room, wine glasses in hand, she decided she wasn't going to keep it to herself anymore.

She took a slow sip of wine, pretending to be casual. "So… I've been thinking."

Robert, leaning back against the couch, raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous."

Jessica rolled her eyes but smirked. "I'm serious."

He gave her an amused look, setting his glass down. "Alright. About what?"

Jessica hesitated, her heart pounding. She forced herself to swirl the wine in her glass, as if this was just another conversation. "About what you told me. About Monica."

Robert's expression shifted. He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Jess, I told you everything. There's nothing more to—"

"No, no, I know," she interrupted quickly. "It's not about her. It's about you."

That made him pause. He sat up slightly, his gaze sharpening. "What about me?"

Jessica inhaled deeply. "I guess I never really thought about it before, but… I didn't realize you could be like that."

Robert frowned slightly. "Like what?"

Jessica bit her lip. Heat spread through her, pooling between her legs, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Like… in control."

Robert tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Jess, I'm a lawyer. I have to be in control."

She let out a breathy laugh. "That's not what I meant."

Silence stretched between them as Robert pieced it together. His eyes darkened slightly as realization settled in.

"Oh."

Jessica's fingers tightened around her glass. "Yeah. Oh."

Robert didn't say anything at first. He just looked at her. Studying her. The air between them shifted—something unspoken crackled in the space between them.

"You've been thinking about that?" he finally asked, his voice lower now.

Jessica swallowed. "...Yes."

His lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close. "And?"

Jessica exhaled sharply, rubbing her thighs together under the table. "And… I guess I didn't realize how much I might like that."

A charged silence filled the room.

Robert leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto hers. "Are you saying you want that?"

Jessica's breath hitched. Her thighs clenched. She could feel herself getting wetter.

"I—I don't know," she admitted. "I've never really thought about it before. But now… I can't stop thinking about it."

Robert hummed, leaning back again, tapping his fingers against his knee. "Interesting."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "That's all you have to say? Interesting?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, it's not every day my wife tells me she's suddenly interested in being submissive."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "I'm not saying I want anything crazy. I just… I feel like there's a side of you I haven't really seen before."

Robert studied her closely. "And you want to see it."

Jessica hesitated, her pulse racing. "Maybe."

Then, he smirked.

A real smirk. One that sent a jolt through her body, straight between her legs.

"Careful what you ask for, Jess," he murmured. "You might get more than you bargained for."

Jessica's breath caught.

Her body heated under his gaze, but she didn't back down.

She lifted her chin slightly, meeting his stare head-on. "Maybe that's exactly what I want."

Robert held her gaze for a long moment. Then, he leaned in closer, his voice a whisper against her ear.

"We'll see about that."

Jessica shivered.

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED

Jessica had expected something to happen after that conversation.

Maybe Robert would tease her about it. Maybe he'd test the waters. Maybe he'd push her up against the table and show her exactly what she was asking for.

But instead?

Nothing.

No comments. No teasing. No lingering looks.

As if the conversation had never even happened.

At first, she tried not to let it bother her.

But as the days passed, a thought kept creeping in.

Maybe I imagined that shift in the air.

Maybe he was just messing with me.

Maybe he was lying about Monica.

That last thought really irritated her.

One evening, while Robert was in the shower, Jessica sat on the bed, staring at her phone.

She could just ask him.

Or…

Her fingers hovered over the search bar.

She hesitated.

Would this be crossing a line?

Would Robert be mad if he found out?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed in Monica's name—paired with Robert's last name.

And when she finally found what she was looking for…

Her stomach clenched.

So he wasn't lying.

But then why had he acted like it was nothing?

Jessica swallowed hard.

Was he waiting for me to bring it up again?

THE FOLLOWING WEEKEND

Jessica was pulled from sleep by the soft press of warm lips against her temple. She murmured, shifting deeper into the pillow, clinging to the warmth of sleep.

"Jess," Robert's voice came low and coaxing, fingers trailing a lazy path down the curve of her arm, featherlight but deliberate.

A sleepy groan escaped her. "Mmm… five more minutes."

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest—amused, but already with that edge. Then suddenly, the blankets were yanked away, a cool rush of air stealing the warmth from her skin.

"Up. Now." His tone changed—firmer, darker. No room for argument.

Jessica blinked her eyes open, scowling. "What the hell, Robert?"

He stood there, arms crossed, a maddeningly smug smirk on his face. "We're going on a trip. Get up."

She sat up fast, rubbing her eyes, still trying to shake the fog of sleep. "A trip? Since when?"

"Since I decided last night." He nodded toward the corner where two duffel bags waited, already packed. "Everything's ready. We leave in twenty minutes."

Her gaze shifted from the bags back to him. "You packed for me?"

He shrugged, nonchalant. "You always bring too many shoes. Figured I'd save you the trouble."

Her mouth opened—then closed. There were a dozen things she could say, but only one thing echoed in her mind: Where are we going?

Robert stepped forward, one hand bracing on the mattress, the other brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. His voice dropped, quieter now, but every word deliberate. "Unless… you don't trust me to lead."

Something inside her twisted.

There it was again—that undercurrent. The teasing, the challenge. The way he didn't ask, but claimed. It curled heat low in her belly.

She rolled her eyes to cover the tremble in her breath. "You wish I didn't trust you." With a defiant huff, she threw herself out of bed her bare legs swinging over the side of the bed. "Fine. I'll play along. But if I hate where we're going, I'm making you turn around."

Robert's chuckle followed her as she moved to the bathroom. "Noted. Now hurry."

She dressed in an orange skirt that clung to her hips and a snug white shirt that felt suddenly too thin beneath his gaze. As she applied a quick sweep of mascara, her thoughts churned. This wasn't out of character—he loved spontaneity. But something about this felt different.

The duffel bags. The fact that he had packed her things. The knowing look in his eyes.

That damn smirk.

Once on the road, the hum of the car was soothing, the highway stretching into the distance beneath the bright sky. Jessica leaned back in the seat, legs crossed, pretending to admire the trees outside instead of tracking the slow, possessive glide of Robert's hand over to her thigh—his touch warm, firm, confident.

It felt normal. Almost.

But he didn't feel normal today.

The way he gripped the wheel, the tight set of his jaw, the easy command in his body language—there was something unmistakably different in him. Purposeful. Focused.

She exhaled. "Are you going to tell me where we're going, or is this one of your mind games?"

Robert didn't look at her. Just smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. Not answering

She snorted, shaking her head, but then—

A sudden, almost imperceptible jolt passed through her seat. Jessica inhaled sharply, her hand tightening on the door handle.

What was that?

It happened again—a slow, pulsing vibration directly beneath her, soft at first, like a whisper against her sex.

She shifted, confused.

And then Robert's fingers flicked against something on the wheel.

The vibrations deepened.

Jessica sucked in a breath, her back stiffening. Her thighs clamped together, too late.

"Robert…" she said, voice laced with disbelief.

He didn't even glance at her. His face remained composed, his fingers casually wrapped around the steering wheel. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Her breath hitched as the vibration increased again—steady now, thrumming against her clit through the thin lace of her panties. Heat surged between her thighs, warmth blooming in her core.

"You're serious," she said, voice nearly a gasp.

Another subtle movement from his hand, and the pulsing beneath her quickened—an insistent, sensual torment.

She grabbed the edge of the seat, nails biting into her palm. "Robert. You can't—"

"I told you," he said smoothly, turning toward her briefly, eyes dark. "Relax. Enjoy the ride."

She wanted to slap him for the audacity. But more than that, she wanted—God, she wanted more.

Every few minutes, just as the heat dulled to something she could almost manage, he'd tap the control again. A sudden pulse. A change in tempo. A high-pitched whine that sent lightning up her spine.

And he kept talking. As if nothing was happening.

He chatted about the view, tapped his fingers to the rhythm of a song, occasionally glanced at her with a neutral expression—like he wasn't breaking her down from the inside out.

Her thighs were slick. Her nipples ached. Her breath came shallow and hot as she fought the trembling in her legs.

By the time they pulled up to a secluded cabin tucked into the trees, Jessica was trembling.

The car stopped.

Robert killed the engine. The vibration cut off.

She sat there in stunned silence, thighs clenched tight, panting like she'd run a mile.

Robert stretched languidly, his knuckles grazing her skirt as he reached for the door. "Well. That was a nice drive."

Jessica turned, eyes blazing. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

He gave her a slow, unreadable look. "Something wrong?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You know exactly what's wrong."

He leaned in, his voice low, velvet smooth. "You look tense."

Her hands balled into fists. "You think?"

He moved closer, fingers brushing along her jaw, so faint it was maddening. "I told you to relax. You didn't."

Jessica's breath caught.

That smirk.

He wasn't teasing her. He was training her.

"We have all weekend," he said softly. "And I haven't even shown you the fun part yet."

Her legs were wobbly as she climbed out of the car. The cool mountain air hit her thighs, doing nothing to cool the fire between them. Her panties clung damply to her skin. Her whole body thrummed, aching and unsatisfied.

He moved like nothing had happened, pulling their bags from the trunk, leading her up the gravel path to the front door of the cabin.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "So… where exactly are we?"

He turned slightly, eyes gleaming. "My cabin."

Jessica stopped. "Your what?"

He nodded, already moving toward the front door. "Had it for a few years now."

She stayed rooted in place, staring at his back. They had been married three years, together for five. Never once had he mentioned owning a cabin.

"You're joking."

He unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Nope. Had it modified back when I was dating Monica."

Jessica's stomach did a little flip—one part surprise, one part something else. "Wait. You mean to tell me you've had a whole cabin this entire time and never thought to mention it?"

Robert leaned against the doorframe, watching her with quiet amusement. "Never came up."

Jessica narrowed her eyes but stepped inside, curiosity outweighing her irritation.

The cabin was beautiful. High wooden ceilings, a stone fireplace, large windows catching the golden hues of the late afternoon sun. Cozy but intentional—like every inch had been designed with a purpose.

"You said you had this modified?" she asked slowly. "For… Monica?"

He set the bags down and turned, a shadow of something darker flickering across his face. "Yes."

Her stomach twisted.

"What kind of modifications?"

His smile was slow and dangerous now. "You'll see."

A slow, delicious shiver ran down her spine.

Jessica stood in the center of the cabin, arms crossed tightly over her chest, though her posture betrayed more than irritation—it was tension, curiosity, and something darker stirring just beneath her skin. Her eyes narrowed, tracking Robert's every movement as he leaned against the thick wooden beam beside the kitchen, casual and composed, like he owned not just the space, but the very air she was breathing.

"So let me get this straight," she said, her voice slow and edged. "You've had this cabin for years. Never mentioned it. And you suddenly had to rush up here and 'clean' it after our little talk the other night?"

Robert didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. His eyes were on her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

"That about sums it up," he said with infuriating ease.

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "What, was it covered in dust and cobwebs?"

He exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head once. "It hadn't been used in years now. After Monica and I ended, I never had a reason to come back."

The mention of Monica—his ex—the woman who'd once walked this very floor, left a bitter note in Jessica's mouth. But it was the way he said it, so final, so certain, that struck her more than the name itself.

"And I definitely didn't expect you to ever be interested in... this," he added, voice dipping lower, just enough to make her feel it in her belly.

Jessica's heart thumped hard. There was something about the way he said this—like it wasn't just a place. Like it was a part of him he hadn't let her see until now.

"You mean… you didn't think I'd ever be submissive?" Her voice was half-taunt, half-dare, but the truth of it landed heavy in the air.

Robert pushed off the beam, the slow prowl of his steps swallowing the space between them.

"Jessica," he said softly, head tilting. "You've never been submissive a day in your life." His gaze dragged down her body, slow and unashamed. "So yeah. It was unexpected."

She bristled, heat flashing in her cheeks, but before she could retort, his hand reached up—fingertips brushing along her jaw, featherlight.

The contrast between the bite in his tone and the gentleness of his touch sent a wave of heat straight through her.

"But I won't lie," he murmured, his thumb stroking the curve of her cheek, "the idea of you choosing to trust me like that?" His eyes locked with hers, dark and unreadable.

"It's intoxicating."

Her breath hitched, her body suddenly aware of every inch of him. Of the raw, coiled tension laced through the air. The way he hadn't even touched her beyond a caress, and yet her thighs were already pressing together.

She tried to keep her voice steady. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

He stepped back, gaze lingering, unreadable. "Because I thought you'd laugh in my face."

Jessica flinched internally, but the honesty of his answer landed like a weight in her chest. She might've laughed. Back then. Before the conversation about Monica. Before the car ride. Before the seat that had made her come undone in silence, aching and aching for more.

Now?

Now, she wasn't laughing.

She stepped toward him slowly, like a woman drawn into gravity. "So… are you going to show me these 'modifications'?"

Robert's smirk returned, slow and wicked. "Careful, sweetheart." His voice dropped into something thick and molten. "Once I do, there's no going back."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. But her chin lifted. "I guess we'll see, then."

His eyes roamed her face, studying every flicker of uncertainty, every flicker of defiance. Then, with a short chuckle, he turned and walked toward the hallway.

Jessica followed, her footsteps light but shaky, her heart pounding hard enough she thought he might hear it.

The hallway was narrow, dimly lit, the silence heavy with anticipation. The air itself seemed thicker back here, charged with some unspoken promise.

Robert stopped at the end of the corridor and pushed open a door.

Blackness.

Jessica hesitated at the threshold. "Robert…?"

"Step inside," he said simply, his voice low, deep, final.

She hovered a second longer before her feet carried her forward.

The door closed behind her with a click that echoed too loudly in the silence.

And then—his presence.

She didn't see him move, didn't hear his approach, but she felt him. The air shifted. Her skin prickled.

Then hands—strong, warm—slid over her shoulders from behind. Not rough. Not aggressive. Just… in control.

Her breath hitched. "Robert?"

He didn't answer. Instead, a soft strip of fabric slipped over her eyes, plunging her into complete, disorienting darkness.

Jessica's body tensed, the unfamiliarity of it all wrapping around her like a vice. "What are you—"

"Shhh," he whispered, right beside her ear, the warmth of his breath skating across her neck. "Just breathe."

She tried. But it was hard. Her chest rose and fell too quickly. Her fingers twitched at her sides.

She wasn't used to this. Not seeing. Not knowing. Not controlling.

His hands moved again—down her arms this time, soothing, grounding.

"You trust me, don't you?" he asked, and the softness in his voice felt more intimate than anything he'd ever done.

Jessica swallowed. Her throat felt tight. Her instincts screamed to pull the blindfold off, to take control back. But beneath the fear, beneath the adrenaline... there was something else. Something electric.

A hunger she didn't understand yet.

"…Yes," she breathed.

"Good." His lips brushed her ear, a whisper and a promise all at once.

The silence returned, thicker than before. Her body became hyper-aware—of every shift in the air, every beat of her heart, every throb between her legs.

She waited.

And then she felt him.

Not just touching her—but unwrapping her.

The slow slide of her skirt over her hips, the cool air kissing her thighs. Fingers—his fingers—brushing up the inside of her leg, grazing over lace already damp with need.

Jessica whimpered softly, biting her lip to keep the sound in. But Robert heard it. She felt his breath, the low, amused rumble in his chest behind her.

"You're already soaked," he murmured, a touch of awe and possession in his voice.

Her legs trembled as he dragged a single finger over her panties, barely pressing, just enough to feel the heat of her.

Jessica's knees nearly buckled.

He whispered, mouth brushing the edge of her neck, "This is just the beginning, Jess. You stepped inside. You said yes."

His hands cupped her hips.

"You're mine now."

Jessica moaned softly, her body trembling in the dark, blindfolded , on the edge of something vast and terrifying and so deeply, deeply arousing she could barely breathe.

Jessica's breathing was uneven, shallow. Her chest rose and fell with each inhale as she stood blindfolded, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, body trembling with anticipation. Her skin was electric—every sound amplified, every brush of air charged. The silence pressed in like a lover's hands, intimate and consuming.

She flinched when Robert's fingers returned, tracing the edges of her blouse, light as breath but hot as flame. Each delicate pass over fabric felt more intimate than a kiss. She could feel his body close, could sense his gaze tracking her every reaction.

Then his voice cut through the stillness, deep and low, a steady anchor in the dark.

"This isn't just about control, Jessica," he murmured, his fingers slipping to the top button of her blouse. The pad of his thumb brushed the swell of her breast just beneath the fabric. "It's about trust."

A soft click echoed in the room as the first button came undone.

Jessica swallowed hard. Her pulse was drumming beneath her skin, her mouth dry. The cool kiss of air on her collarbone made her shiver as the fabric slowly loosened.

"This kind of relationship," Robert continued, undoing the second button with maddening patience, "is built on respect. On safety. On surrender—but never without your permission."

Another button. Another inch of exposed skin. The swell of her breasts now barely contained by the delicate lace of her bra.

She bit her lip, voice trembling. "Then… why the blindfold?"

Robert's chuckle was a soft, dark promise. "Because you haven't told me to stop." He leaned in, voice brushing the shell of her ear like silk. "And without your sight… your other senses are forced to pay attention."

Jessica's cheeks flushed, heat crawling down her neck.

He was right. She could end this at any moment. Could step away, tear off the blindfold, say the word and break the spell.

But she didn't.

She didn't want to.

There was something about his voice—steady, commanding. About the way he touched her—not rough, but with total certainty. It pulled at something deep inside her, something that craved structure, guidance, tension… him.

"Everything we do," Robert said, easing the blouse from her shoulders, letting it slip down her arms and pool at her feet, "is grounded in communication. Honest. Raw. Vulnerable."

His fingers traced the bare skin of her arms, following the line from shoulder to wrist, slow enough to make her knees tremble.

"You'll tell me what you like. What you need. What hurts, what scares you. And I'll listen. Every time."

Jessica exhaled shakily, uncertain whether the goosebumps were from the cool air or the way his words stroked her nerves.

His hands moved lower, skimming the curve of her waist, pausing at the hem of her skirt. The fabric of her bra clung to her nipples, now stiff peaks straining against the lace. She felt exposed, vulnerable—but not unsafe.

"There will be boundaries," he said, his voice firmer now. "And there will be a safe word."

Her breath caught. "A… safe word?"

Robert nodded—she couldn't see it, but she felt it in the weight of his pause. "Something that will stop everything, immediately. No questions. No hesitation."

Her mind raced, grasping for something absurd enough to never be said accidentally. "Giraffe," she whispered.

Robert laughed quietly, and the sound sent a pulse between her thighs. "Giraffe?"

"I don't see it coming up mid-orgasm," she replied, managing a nervous smile.

"Perfect," he murmured. His hands circled her waist, grounding her. Possessive, but not oppressive. "Now listen closely, Jessica."

His voice was lower now. More intimate. Her skin prickled in response.

"When you step forward from here, you're giving me the lead. You're trusting me to guide you. To push you—but never break you."

She nodded slowly, barely able to breathe.

"And if I say 'Giraffe" she whispered.

"Then everything stops," he said, no hesitation. "No matter what."

Jessica's heart pounded as his fingers tugged gently at the waistband of her skirt. With excruciating slowness, he slid it down her hips, revealing the thin black thong beneath—soaked through, clinging to her heat. Her breath hitched as cool air kissed the inside of her thighs, mingling with the heat between them.

Robert groaned softly. "You're already dripping."

She moaned before she could stop herself, her legs clenching instinctively.

He traced his fingers along the lace, pressing just enough to feel the soaked fabric. Her body arched into the touch, and he rewarded her with a gentle stroke, slow and firm.

Her thighs trembled.

His hands slid upward again, trailing along her waist, her ribcage, thumbs brushing just beneath her breasts. Then higher—he reached around and unhooked her bra with practiced ease, letting it fall from her shoulders like the final veil between her and surrender.

Jessica gasped as her breasts were exposed, nipples hardening further under the cool air and his heated gaze.

Robert's hands were on her again—one cupping the underside of her breast, the other teasing the sensitive peak with a thumb that circled, then flicked, slow and deliberate.

She whimpered, caught between shame and raw, aching need.

He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "You're breathtaking, Jessica. And you're mine. Say it."

Her lips parted. "I'm yours."

"Good girl."

The praise hit her like lightning, her stomach tightening, a surge of wetness flooding her already slick panties.

He took her hand in his then—strong, steady fingers lacing with hers.

"From this moment," he said, guiding her forward, "you are mine to lead. Mine to reward. Mine to discipline."

Jessica followed. Blindfolded, trembling, heart in her throat, every step a descent into the dark, intoxicating unknown.

Where was he taking her?

She didn't know.

But she trusted him.

And she wanted everything.

Roberts POV

Robert watched her.

Every twitch. Every shaky breath. Every tiny tremble of resistance fighting with curiosity inside her blindfolded frame. Jessica stood there—tall, proud, but utterly exposed in a way far more vulnerable than nudity. She was stripped of control, and that alone made her look more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

Jessica, the planner, the skeptic, the tightly coiled storm of logic and stubborn will… now stood in the middle of his room with her hands loose at her sides, body bare but for her panties and a blindfold. Her mouth was slightly parted, her chest rising in quick, shallow breaths. Her mind was clearly spinning—but she hadn't walked away.

She hadn't said the word.

And that alone set something primal ablaze inside him.

He stepped closer, almost silently, the floor creaking just slightly under his weight. She tensed. He could see the way her spine straightened, shoulders reacting as though his approach were heat licking up her skin.

She's listening. Good.

He reached out and brushed her wrist, the slightest touch of his fingertips, watching her flinch like he'd poured heat across her skin. She swallowed thickly.

"I need you to stand still," he said, voice low, like a velvet rope drawing her tighter into the moment. "No moving. No reaching for the blindfold. Let go, Jessica. Just feel."

She hesitated—only a fraction of a second—then nodded.

That subtle surrender sent a jolt straight to his cock.

He took a slow breath, steadying himself. Don't fuck this up.

When she had first mentioned Monica—curious, cautious—he'd thought it would go no further than words. Maybe some playful exploration. But he hadn't expected this. Not Jessica, standing in his cabin, stripped to her barest defenses, offering herself with quiet, terrifying bravery.

He walked around her slowly, deliberately, letting the silence stretch. She couldn't see him, couldn't predict his movements. She could only hear the soft creak of the floor, the rustle of his clothing, the hum of his breath as he circled her like a slow-moving storm.

"Tell me what it feels like," he murmured from behind her.

Jessica inhaled shakily. "Like… like I should be doing something."

He smiled, almost indulgently. "You are. You're listening. You're surrendering."

She shivered.

He stepped in closer, his chest nearly brushing her back. Then his hand slipped down her inner thigh, feather-light, until he reached the soaked curve of her panties. He pressed the heel of his hand against her folds—just enough to feel the heat and wetness through the lace.

Jessica gasped.

"You're already drenched, sweetheart," he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and teasing. "And we've barely started."

Her knees trembled.

"This isn't just about letting go," he continued, fingers now tracing slow circles over the thin fabric. "It's about trust. Trust in me… and trust in yourself."

She made a soft, helpless sound in her throat, hips tipping slightly into his touch.

He slid his fingers under the waistband of her panties, easing them down her hips inch by inch. They clung to her heat before slipping down her thighs and pooling at her feet. She stood there now, completely naked. Blinded. Breathing hard.

He stepped back again, letting her feel the absence of his touch.

"You won't be perfect at this," he said. "But you don't have to be. I'll teach you how to let go. All I ask is that you're honest."

Jessica nodded once.

"And if I break the rules?" she asked, her voice quiet but tinged with challenge.

He stepped forward until his chest brushed against her spine, one hand wrapping lightly around her throat—not to squeeze, but to anchor her. His other hand caressed the curve of her ass.

"Then you'll be punished," he said, voice like silk sliding over steel.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and he felt her body react, the muscles in her thighs tightening, her breath fluttering.

"I'll spank you until you can't sit without remembering who you belong to. I'll tie you down and make you beg to come. But only if you want it. Only if you let me."

She was shaking now, but not from fear. From want. From anticipation.

"You always have a choice," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Say the word, and I stop. 'Giraffe,' right?"

She nodded quickly.

"Say it once, and we reset. Say it twice, and the scene ends. I'll hold you, dress you, take care of you. But nothing else happens."

Jessica's breath came faster now. The air around her vibrated with tension—coiled, alive.

"But if you don't say it…" he continued, one hand sliding between her thighs again, parting her gently, "then I'll keep going. I'll make you scream. I'll make you beg. I'll show you just how good surrender can feel."

Her body bucked against his touch, and he rewarded her with a slow, deep stroke of his fingers along her slick heat.

"Fuck…" she whispered, barely audible.

He chuckled. "You're so responsive already. I can't wait to see what happens when I start training that body."

Jessica whimpered, her head falling back slightly, the tension in her legs almost too much to bear.

"You want to try?" he asked, his voice pure sin.

She nodded. "Yes."

Robert exhaled, a low groan of satisfaction vibrating in his chest.

"Good girl."

The moment the words hit her ears, her body melted. It was as if a switch flipped, as if those two words broke something open inside her she hadn't known she was holding closed.

Robert took her hand and guided her forward—past hesitation, past pride, past the edge of who she used to be.

She followed.

Blind, naked, trembling… but never more sure of what she wanted.

And he would give it to her.

All of it.

3rd Person(narrator)

Robert stepped in close, so close his body heat kissed her skin without contact. His hands hovered—mere inches from her bare shoulders—teasing the air, letting her feel how near he was without the relief of his touch. It was enough to make her ache.

"Jessica," he murmured, his voice calm, smooth like dark velvet.

She exhaled sharply at the sound of her name, as if her own identity startled her in this context—bound in silence, blindfolded, exposed.

He smirked. Good.

Leaning in, he let his lips ghost along the shell of her ear, close enough to feel the heat of her flushed skin. "Tell me," he whispered, voice low and loaded, "how worked up are you right now?"

She shivered visibly, her body betraying what her lips refused to give up right away. Robert could practically hear the internal war waging inside her—the disciplined woman who'd built walls of logic and control now cornered by the hunger she'd kept locked away.

Finally, a breathy admission slipped from her lips. "Very."

Robert's smirk deepened. There she is.

He traced a single finger down her arm, his touch featherlight and maddeningly slow, drawing goosebumps in his wake. She tensed, her skin vibrating with need, her body held taut in anticipation.

"Now," he said, voice deceptively casual, "I have a question for you."

She swallowed, every muscle tight, strained. "What?"

His next words landed like a lit match tossed onto gasoline. "Would you like an orgasm?"

Her breath hitched violently.

For a moment, she froze—blindsided by the bluntness, by the weight of it, by how badly she wanted to say yes.

Then, in a voice trembling with vulnerability and desire, she asked, "Is that… a trick question?"

Robert chuckled, a slow, deep sound that vibrated in her chest. "No tricks," he murmured. "Just a choice."

And then, nothing. Silence. Thick, hot, pulsing silence.

He gave her space. Gave her time to let the question settle like heat between her legs, to let it grow, expand, burn.

She shifted, her fingers curling into small fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms like physical restraints. Her thighs pressed together, a reflex she didn't even seem aware of.

"…Yes," she whispered eventually. "I want it."

Robert smiled like a man holding a leash he knew she didn't even realize was already wrapped around her throat. "Good girl."

Her body jolted, the response immediate. The words hit her harder than any touch. Her breath caught, and he watched the delicious ripple of tension dance down her spine.

Oh yes. This was going to be so much fun.

The air buzzed with charged silence. Jessica stood still, blindfolded and trembling with anticipation, her body humming like a live wire. She felt him without seeing him, felt the gravity of his presence pulling her deeper into a space she'd never dared to enter.

And she had said yes.

She was his to play with now.

Robert stepped in again, slow and deliberate, letting her feel his closeness—feel his control.

"That was honest of you," he murmured, fingertips skimming up the length of her arm, teasing her with not quite enough.

Jessica swallowed. "So…?"

"So?" he echoed, his voice smooth, unreadable.

She shifted again, a hint of frustration edging into her movements. "Are you going to—?"

"Not yet."

She stiffened. "What?"

He began circling her again, his voice a sensual lull of authority. "You seem to think this is a request line. That I ask what you want, and you get it."

"That's not what I—" she began, but he was already there, his fingers pressing lightly against her lips, silencing her.

God, that was hot.

She flushed, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks, her chest, and lower. The vulnerability of being cut off, of having her words taken away—it shouldn't have aroused her, and yet…

"This is about patience," Robert whispered, leaning in close. "It's about learning the difference between wanting something… and earning it."

She bit her lip, a small whimper escaping despite herself. "That's not fair," she muttered.

"No," he agreed smoothly. "It isn't. But you agreed to this, remember?"

Her stomach flipped. Fuck him. Fuck him for knowing exactly how to read her, for knowing how to push the buttons she didn't even know she had.

Robert's fingers brushed her cheek now, soft, almost tender. "I never said no. I just said not yet."

She stood frozen, her breath shaky, not knowing how long he would make her wait… or how far he would push her.

But that was the point, wasn't it?

She wanted to find out.

The room had gone silent again, the kind of silence that prickled at her skin, made her hyper-aware of her own body. Her nipples were hard, aching, brushing against the air. Her thighs were damp, clenched. Her core pulsed with a hunger she hadn't felt in years.

Then Robert's voice returned, low and focused. "Jessica."

"Yes?" she breathed, voice high and tight.

"I want to ask you something… and I need an honest answer."

She shifted, bracing herself. "Okay."

He stepped close again, his voice soft but weighty. "What are your thoughts on bondage?"

The question hit her like a shot of adrenaline—unexpected, intimate, laced with unspoken promises. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She stood there, blind and bare, her mind reeling.

Finally, she swallowed. "I… I don't know," she admitted. "I've read about it. Thought about it maybe… but I've never done it. Not with anyone."

Robert nodded, even though she couldn't see. "That's fair."

"Why are you bringing it up?" she asked, voice quieter now.

He brushed his fingers along the slope of her neck. "Because if we're going to explore… if we're going to do this right, I need to know where your lines are. What excites you. What scares you. And what might surprise you."

Her breath caught. "You think bondage is something we'd do?"

"I think," he murmured, lips at her ear again, "you might like what it feels like."

She was still. Listening. Processing.

"And what's your take on it?" she asked quietly.

He didn't rush. "Bondage is about trust. About surrender. Not in a way that weakens you, but in a way that sets you free. It's not about pain. Not unless you want it. It's about letting go while knowing—absolutely knowing—you're safe."

"Freedom," she echoed, almost in awe.

"Yes." He let his fingers trail down her back. "When you're tied down, Jessica… when you can't do anything except feel… there's no pretending. No hiding. Only sensation. Only truth."

Her hands flexed at her sides, her breath uneven.

"And if I don't like it?"

"Then you say the word," he whispered, his lips against her temple. "And I stop. Instantly. No questions. No guilt. No judgment."

She swallowed again. "Okay."

Robert tilted her chin up, gently. "So we go at your pace. Step by step. And if it's too much?"

"Giraffe," she said softly.

He smiled.

"Good girl."

This time, she didn't flinch.

This time, her lips parted with a soft, shaky exhale of want.

And Robert knew he had her.

Not just her body.

But her trust.

And Robert was going to make damn sure he never betrayed that.

Jessica moved blindly through the dim room, Robert's firm, guiding hands warm on her hips. The blindfold wrapped snugly over her eyes made her feel adrift in a sea of sensation—every step, every whisper of air on her skin, every delicate brush of his fingers amplified until her whole body thrummed with anticipation. She wasn't afraid. Curious, yes. Turned on? Profoundly.

The silence between them pulsed like a heartbeat. There was tension, thick and delicious, but it wasn't just the sexual kind. It was trust, raw and bare. The kind that trembled beneath her skin.

She felt the edge of something soft behind her—the unmistakable give of a mattress.

Robert's voice broke the quiet, low and warm. "I'm going to help you onto the bed, okay?"

Jessica nodded. "Okay."

He lifted her effortlessly, laying her across the plush surface. Her breath caught as her back sank into the thick comforter. The scent of him—clean, masculine, faintly spiced—wrapped around her as his hands moved to adjust her in the center.

Then came something unexpected—a cool press against her wrist.

She tensed instinctively.

Robert stilled, his fingers brushing her skin, calming. "Jessica," he said softly. "Breathe. You're safe."

She exhaled shakily, forcing her body to loosen. "I know."

"Good girl."

The words curled inside her, heating her from the core. He was slow, methodical as he secured the restraint around her wrist. Velvet. Not tight, not painful. Just present. A suggestion of being held.

Of surrender.

He moved to the other wrist, repeating the process with the same careful reverence. "You can still move," he murmured. "I'm not trapping you."

Jessica tested the range—there was give. She could escape, if she truly wanted.

But she didn't.

"Okay," she whispered.

His hand caressed her cheek, thumb grazing her cheekbone with exquisite tenderness. "Good girl."

The praise made her thighs clench, heat curling through her belly. Then his hands slid down—arms, waist, hips. He took his time securing her ankles, fingertips grazing bare skin, leaving her tingling in places he hadn't even touched yet.

"You're doing so well," he murmured.

Jessica's breath was shallow. "This feels... different."

"Different good, or different bad?"

She hesitated. "Good. Just... new."

"That's expected."

For a moment, silence settled over them again. And then she asked, almost shyly, "What now?"

Robert leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "Now," he murmured, "you trust me."

And she realized—she already did.

A cool, firm touch circled her neck, and she gasped, heart leaping. Robert's fingers were precise, careful, as he fastened the collar. Not tight. Just there. A whisper of ownership.

"Easy," he soothed, thumb brushing over her pulse. "This isn't about control. It's about keeping you here. Present."

Jessica swallowed, throat tight around a thousand sensations. The collar was strange. And yet, it didn't frighten her. It grounded her. Anchored her.

"How does it feel?"

"Strange," she admitted. "But... not bad."

"New is okay." He kissed her jaw. "You're doing so well, love."

Love. The word burned hot in her chest, more intimate than the restraints, more binding than the collar.

Then came light.

The blindfold lifted.

Her vision adjusted slowly, taking in the soft amber glow around the room. And him. Robert. Kneeling beside her. Watching. Calm. Steady. Devoted.

"Hi," she breathed.

"Hi, love," he said, his smile soft.

Jessica's eyes darted across the room—the setup, the intentionality. "You... planned all this?"

"I prepared," he said. "Didn't expect you'd want it."

She met his gaze. "And now?"

His fingers drifted down her arm. "Now, I make sure you always feel safe. That you always have a choice."

She felt something stir deeper than lust—something sacred.

"So, love," he said, brushing a kiss over her knuckles, "tell me. Do you want to keep going?"

Her answer was steady. "Yes."

But then, as the air shifted around them, his voice dropped lower. "There's something I need to tell you."

She blinked. That wasn't the tone she'd expected.

"Do you remember Stacy?" he asked.

Emma's cousin. Her stomach dipped.

"She was at our wedding," Robert added, sitting back just slightly.

Jessica's brows drew together. "What?"

"She came as a plus one with one of your cousins. I didn't know she was there until she congratulated us."

A pause.

Jessica searched his face. "You still talk?"

"Not like that," he clarified quickly. "Casual. A few times a year. Nothing emotional. I never hid it, but I also didn't bring it up."

She took a long breath. It wasn't betrayal. Not really. But it was omission.

"Why now?" she asked.

Robert met her gaze unflinchingly. "Because we're building something new based on trust. I don't want to withhold anything."

Jessica processed the words. And then nodded. "I'd have preferred knowing sooner. But... I trust you."

He exhaled visibly.

"And besides," she added wryly, "if I'm going to be tied to a bed, you owe me full transparency."

His laugh was warm, easing the remaining tension. "Fair."

Their eyes met. No more secrets. No more shadows.

Then his hand slid between her thighs.

Jessica gasped, hips twitching.

"Robert..."

He smiled, wicked and gentle all at once. "I think it's time I show you just how much I enjoy that trust."

He pressed the vibrator against her, sliding it inside her inch by inch. The hum began low, teasing. Her body reacted instantly—clenching, twitching.

Her fingers pulled against the restraints. "Robert—"

"Too much?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No..."

"Then be a good girl and take it."

God, the way he said it—soft but firm, like a promise and a command in one—made her throb.

The hum increased, not enough to push her over, but enough to keep her on the edge. He touched her nipples—hard and flushed—and her body jolted.

"Robert—!"

He smiled. "Breathe. Let go."

She moaned, body strung taut.

"You're doing so well, love," he murmured, voice dark silk. "You don't always have to be in control."

His fingers moved—teasing, circling, keeping her just shy of release. Over and over. Her body trembled, writhing helplessly.

"Robert—please—"

"No," he said gently. "Not yet."

Time blurred. Pleasure built like a storm, crashing against every edge. He pushed her up, then pulled her back. Over. And over for what had to be hours. Her mind was undone.

She trembled, begged, cursed.

"I hate you," she gasped.

Robert chuckled. "Liar."

And then—he turned up the vibrator. (after hour and half of edging and ruin)

Her whole body arched. The orgasm slammed into her like a freight train—white hot, soul-deep, wringing a raw cry from her lips as wave after wave crashed over her.

She collapsed into the bed, limbs trembling, chest heaving.

He was there instantly—hands soothing, voice grounding. "Breathe, love. You're safe."

She barely managed a nod.

He kissed her, gently loosening the restraints one by one. "That's my girl."

Her body buzzed, not just from release, but from the emotional high of surrender. She'd trusted him—completely. And he'd held her through it all.

Jessica let herself sink into him.

No resistance.

No control.

Only trust.

Jessica lay there, still trembling in the aftermath, her body molten and loose against the mattress, every inch of her skin humming with overstimulated bliss. Her limbs were finally free, but she hadn't moved—she couldn't, not really. Not yet. The restraints had come off one by one, Robert's fingers tender and reverent, as if releasing her was as sacred as binding her had been.

Her body still felt the ghost of them, the impression of velvet on her wrists and ankles, the collar resting lightly around her neck—a reminder of what she had given. What she had become.

She was no longer just Jessica, the woman who needed control to feel safe. She was Jessica, undone and wide open, having tasted something deeper than she'd ever imagined. And Robert… Robert had held her through every second of it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, roughened with emotion and fading arousal, softer now without the teasing edge he'd worn earlier. His hand traced lazy circles over her bare stomach, the heat of his palm grounding her in the aftermath.

Jessica turned toward him, her cheek brushing the inside of his shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. "Yeah… just—" She gave a breathy, uneven laugh that caught in her throat. "That was… a lot."

Robert's lips pressed to her damp temple, the brush of his stubble scraping softly against her skin. "A good lot?" he murmured, and though his tone was light, there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath it—an unspoken need for reassurance, for confirmation that he hadn't pushed too far.

Jessica's gaze lifted, slow but certain. Her eyes met his—still dark, still searching—and she gave him a sleepy, bliss-heavy smile that melted the last bit of worry from his brow. "The best lot," she whispered, voice thick with exhaustion and lingering desire.

Robert grinned, his entire expression warming, as if her words reached somewhere inside him that nothing else could. His hand slid higher, fingertips gliding lazily over the curve of her breast. Her nipple, still hard from earlier torment, responded instantly to his touch, and she shivered, even though her body had been wrung out.

"Glad to hear it," he said with a wicked little smile, his thumb circling the peaked nub in a way that made her hips twitch weakly in response.

She gave him a tired swat to the chest, though it had no real power behind it. "Don't get cocky."

"Too late," he replied smugly, and leaned in to kiss her forehead, then her nose, then lower—his lips dragging over her cheek, the corner of her mouth, until she tilted her head and caught him in a soft, lingering kiss.

It was slow and sweet, filled not with urgency but gratitude. It was the kind of kiss that spoke of love forged in the fires of trust and surrender.

When he finally pulled back, he reached for the blanket, pulling it gently over her body, tucking it around her like she was something precious—something owned. And she let him. She wanted to be his. Needed it.

"I'll get you some water," he said, voice gentle now, all the dominant steel of earlier moments softened into care.

But as he shifted, her fingers wrapped weakly around his wrist. "Stay?"

He stilled immediately. The change in him was almost visible—whatever instinct to move had been there evaporated in a heartbeat. He looked down at her with eyes that had darkened again, not from lust, but from something deeper. Love. Devotion.

"Always," he whispered.

And he meant it.

He sank back down beside her without another word, drawing her close. Jessica let herself be folded into his warmth, her face tucked against his throat, her fingers splayed over his chest. His scent was still on her skin, mingled with her own. His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath her palm, a constant rhythm in a world that had gone deliciously off-kilter.

Robert's hand found her hip under the blanket, fingers drawing slow, absentminded patterns across the curve of her ass—like he couldn't stop touching her, even now. Like he didn't want to.

Jessica sighed, the sound low and content, her body molding itself against his.

The collar still sat at her throat.

Soft.

Warm.

Safe.

She hadn't asked him to remove it.

And he hadn't offered.

In that quiet moment, wrapped in his arms, bare in more ways than just physically, Jessica finally understood—this wasn't about pain or punishment or performance. It was about the giving. The letting go. The act of surrendering without fear.

And she had never felt more at peace.

More loved.

More herself.

Wrapped in his arms, wrapped in this trust, Jessica closed her eyes.

She was his.

And she'd never felt more free.

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Please comment anything you liked or disliked. Anything missing or if it was too much. I am writing this story till its atleast 100k words as, Unravelled is already ready for uploads for the next 9 months(38 chapters have been edited to completion). This is in fact is an older story than Unravelled. The Jealous Wife was started on 4th of March 2025.