Page 131 of Stranger to Love

"I... I belong to you," I stammered.

Her grip shifted to my throat—firming just enough to make me acutely aware of her strength. "Not good enough, Alex. Your conviction is weak." She leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear. "Walk upstairs. My bedroom. If you utter a single word without being spoken to, you won't survive the night. Tell me you understand."

"I understand," I whispered quickly.

She let go, leaving me cold, and drained her whiskey.

The walk upstairs felt like a march to an execution. When the bedroom door clicked shut, the lock turned with a definitive snap. Carrie walked around me, unbuttoning her silk cuffs with fluid, calm movements. She tossed them onto the dresser and turned her dark gaze down the length of my body.

"Strip," she murmured. "Everything but the necklace. I want to see exactly what that woman thought she had the right to touch."

With trembling fingers, I undressed, leaving only the dark silver pendant against my collarbone. Carrie slowly began to circle me like a jeweller examining a flawed diamond, her hands tucked into her pockets.

"The shoulder," she whispered from behind, her breath warm on my neck. "She had her hand here, didn't she? Claiming space she didn't earn. Feeling the curves that belong to me." She stepped back around to the front, hooking a finger under the silver chain, pulling it taut so I had to look up. "Do you have any idea how much I want to ruin you for letting her put her filthy hands on my darling? Stay silent. I haven't decided which part of you I'm going to reclaim first."

The shift was instantaneous. Her hand left the necklace and pushed my shoulder, commanding me back onto the sprawling bed. I fell back onto the silk duvet.

"Stay," she snapped.

I watched, paralysed, as she opened a velvet-lined drawer and pulled out a coil of supple, jet-black rope. My stomach did a violent somersault.

"Shuffle back. All the way to the headboard, Alex. Now."

Carrie climbed onto the bed with the grace of a panther, letting the rope glide across my collarbone and down over my stomach. Then, her voice changed, layering the possessive fury with a profound, quiet sincerity.

"Listen to me, Alex," she murmured, her thumb tracing my lower lip. "I am angry. And I am going to make sure you remember exactly whose touch matters. But no matter what I do, you can stop this at any time. I am your mistress, darling, not your captor. Give me a safe word.”

The lump in my throat was fucking massive, but the terror eased just a fraction, replaced by a devastating surge of trust. She was going to break me, fuck yeah, but she was giving me the keys to the lock before she started.

A devastating surge of trust replaced my terror. "Yellow," I whispered.

"Yellow," she repeated, the softness vanishing as she grabbed my wrists. "Good. Now, give me your hands. It’s time to wash that woman’s scent off your skin."

With practiced expertise, she secured my wrists to the rungs of the headboard, leaving me completely split open and vulnerable. Slowly, her fingers found the top button of her deep red silk blouse. She undid it. Then the second. My body fucking tingled with hope as I watched her.

"So tell me, darling," she asked, her voice a low, rhythmic hum. "What exactly made that woman believe she had a chance with you? Did you give her a free drink? Tell me everything. Mommy wants all the details, Alex. And remember... I'll know if you're lying."

Under her piercing gaze, the truth poured out of me. I confessed to the eye contact, the vodka-fuelled confidence, and the free drink. Carrie didn't scream. Instead, she stepped out of her trousers, leaving her in nothing but black lace lingerie, and crawled up the mattress until she was straddling my hips.

She leaned down, her palm flat against my thundering heart. "You used my time and my girl to make a stranger feel special," she purred dangerously. "Do you have any idea how much that’s going to cost you tonight, baby?"

"Carrie, I didn't mean to—"

"Exactly, baby. You didn't think." Her knees pinned my thighs, rendering me completely immobile as her thumb pressed firmly into the hollow of my throat, right above the silver pendant. "The moment they think they can reach out and touch you is the moment you've failed me. And when they actually do? When they put their hands on you in the middle of the street?"

She leaned in until her nose brushed mine, her dark eyes consuming me entirely.

"Then it’s you who’s in trouble, Alex. Because you went too far with Mommy’s property. You led her to believe that what belongs exclusively to me was somehow up for grabs."

She let go of my throat only to grip my chin, forcing me to hold her gaze. "You were so busy enjoying the ego boost that you forgot your place. You let a stranger's hands roam over skin that I have spent weeks marking as mine. Do you understand why I’m so disappointed, baby?"

I could only nod, a small, choked sob catching in my chest. The weight of my "hospitality" felt like fucking lead now. I looked at her, my eyes pleading, but Carrie’s face was a mask of beautiful, terrifying resolve.

"Good," she whispered, her gaze dropping to my lips. "Now, stay very still. I'm going to wash the memory of that woman off you, and I’m going to make sure that the next time someone looks at you, they see my shadow standing right behind you."

The distance between us felt like a physical ache. I was stuck there, my hands bound to the wood, watching Carrie exist just out of reach while my body screamed for the friction she had just taken away. She didn't say a word. She just watched me struggle against the silk and the rope, her eyes tracking the way my chest heaved.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice a low, steady thrum. "So desperate to be touched, yet so careless with who you allow to do it." She reached for the nightstand, her fingers brushing against a small, velvet-lined box. "You want me, Alex? You want Mommy to fix this?"