Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.
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Bound Obedience
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D avid stepped into the antique shop, a little on edge. Even with the friendly little door bell ringing away; the interior was poorly lit and full of unsorted items. He wasn’t sure what to get, and had never really shopped for antiques before in the first place. But regardless, he was going to find the perfect gift for the girl of his dreams, and she was going to love him for it.
Never having shopped for antiques before was most of the reason why he was going to this store in the first place, this “Possessions.” It was brand new in town, having opened just the previous weekend, and if he didn’t know what they offered or what could be found there, he was certain that there were a great many others who had come in as of late who were in the same boat as him.
Somehow, going to some established antique shop run by lifelong antiquers who knew everything there was to know about the carving methods for seventeen different styles of cuckoo clocks just filled him with dread.
So, he was going to some place new, to help him with what would be hopefully a new chapter in his life. Whatever he got for slim, blond, beautifully busty nineteen year-old Amy, it had to be incredible. Jawdropping. Pussy-wettening. All of those things at once.
In his head, the ideal scenario was him sitting down with Amy and sliding the present across the table. They would have an isolate little spot in the coffee shop where no one could see. She would open it, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes, completely unable to form words before dropping underneath the table to suck him off.
Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen. But it was good to aim high, he always thought. That way when he fell short, he was still doing pretty well. A kiss, maybe. Or a blowjob after she sequestered him back to his apartment.
Or her apartment, he wasn’t picky.
At times, David didn’t feel as if he was in Amy’s league. Even at twenty years-old, he had no idea of his own attractiveness—whether any woman would ever want to sleep with him or not. He was awfully skinny, and didn’t know what to do with the dark mash of his hair, but he was clueless as to whether that was something women enjoyed or not. He just hoped beyond hope that Amy—beautiful Amy, with her killer smile and deadly-gorgeous body—would love him for his heart, the way he loved her.
He scanned the store, looking for an attendant or clerk or something. He had left his wallet in his car, an old tactic to prevent himself from buying too much. Once he decided what to get, he would get a guaranteed time-out to go walk to the car and think about his decision. Lining the shelves, there were all sorts of items he basically expected—odd-shaped lamps, thick rugs, tall stacks of books with no names, chairs that didn’t look made for sitting, trays full of candelabras, tea-organizers made from old picnic tables.
But then there was weird stuff too—used notebook full of scrawly handwriting, packets of balls, long ornate handkerchiefs that could double as blindfolds, tiny ornate statues of women in high heels and tiny skirts who were vacuuming or doing the dishes. And...was that a dildo, on that back shelf?
“Can I help you?” came a lovely, exotic voice from the other end of the store.
He turned to see a shape of a woman behind a curtain; she was putting something up on a shelf.
“Oh, hi,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hi. Yes, I’d love your help. Yes, please.”
Objects shuffled around as she continued to stack behind the curtain.
“Just a moment,” she said. “Anything in particular you are looking for?”
“I don’t know. It’s a gift for a girl.” He struggled with the wording. “It’s a thing for her and me. An anniversary, I mean. The gift, what I’m getting, what it’s for. I’m not sure what to get, though.”
He didn’t know why he
Chelle Bliss, Brenda Rothert