Serene's pulse raced as she shoved the package into the back of her drawer, her fingers trembling as though the cardboard itself might betray her. Panic rose in her chest. Someone had seen her. But who?
By the time Lucien returned home, she was raw with dread. She studied him through dinner, waiting for the accusation, the thunder of his voice. But he never mentioned it. He ate quietly, eyes cool detached, as if nothing at all were amiss.
Relief should have come, but it didn't. If Lucien ever discovered her secret, her carefully controlled life would collapse. He would throw her out. And her parents were self-righteous and merciless; they would slam the door in her face. She'd be left with nothing.
So she smiled faintly, chewed like a robot, and excused herself early.
In her room, she reached for her phone with trembling hands.
"Did you send me anything? Any package?" she texted Cassandra.
The reply came quickly: "No. Why? Did you get something? What was it?"
Serene's throat closed. She couldn't tell anyone not even Cassandra. Instead, she typed, "I just miss you. I can't wait to see you again."
They exchanged lighthearted messages, but unease never loosened its grip. Someone was circling her, toying with her, and she could feel it in her bones.
That night, unable to resist, she dialed the number from the earlier text. The call never connected. No answer. Just silence. She left the phone on the nightstand, her body tight with dread.
When the vibration came, she flinched.
"I want your pussy naked tonight. No panties."
Her eyes darted to Lucien's lying beside her. He was already asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. Serene stayed frozen, panties still on, refusing to obey. She wanted to believe this was all a nightmare.
The next morning, paranoia consumed her. She dismissed the cleaner and scrubbed the house herself, every corner, every shadow. In truth, she was searching. Pulling furniture from walls. Crawling beneath beds. Checking again and again for hidden cameras. Nothing.
Tired and filthy, she slumped to the floor of her room; her nerves still worked.
She called Cassandra, desperate for guidance. "Has anyone ever stalked you before?"
Cassandra's laugh rang through the phone, sharp and reckless. "If someone did that to me, it would be sexy."
The response unsettled her more. Sexy? To Serene, it was terrifying. But even now, the word lodged inside her like a seed.
She needed relief. Escape. Anything to drown the fear.
Her drawer called to her. She pulled it open and took out the dildo. Her pulse quickened as she brought it to her lips, licking, savoring, her breath already ragged.
What was she doing? She should have been searching for the intruder, not surrendering to this heat. Yet her body begged for it.
She slid it inside herself, gasping at the fullness, her hips arching. Faster. Harder. She moaned, head thrown back, until her climax tore through her in convulsions. Her voice rose shamelessly. For a moment, she didn't care who might be watching.
That night, when Lucien came home, Serene made a choice. She would show him this side of her. She would take control.
She stripped down, leaving only the thong Cassandra had gifted her. His eyes widened as she approached, the usual boredom on his face replaced with something closer to shock.
She pressed him onto the bed, kissing him with hunger, grinding against his erection until it throbbed through his trousers. For once, she felt powerful.
She freed him, stroked him, and kissed the tip as she'd seen in forbidden videos. Lucien's breath hitched; his face betrayed pleasure.
Then he shoved her back, flipped her beneath him, and entered her with a ferocity she had never known. Serene moaned, clutching at him, rubbing her clit desperately to keep pace. For a moment, she thought perhaps they could fix their barren bedroom life.
But Lucien climaxed quickly and rolled away, leaving her unfinished, cold. Same as always.
Serene slipped into the bathroom to clean herself, only to find her phone buzzing again.
"I always punish those who disobey me."
Her stomach dropped. Another message followed:
"You slept with your panties on. You used what is mine without permission. You disobeyed."
Shock froze her. Whoever this was, they knew everything.
Her thoughts spun to the shadow she had glimpsed once at Cassandra's place. Could she know? Was she hiding something?
Heat stirred between her thighs despite her fear. Did she… like being watched? The idea twisted through her mind like a serpent.
When Lucien woke, he turned to her with suspicion. "Where did you learn that?"
Serene's lips trembled. "Didn't you like it?"
"I did," he said slowly, "but if I catch you sneaking around, don't expect me to be lenient."
Once he left, Serene exhaled shakily. She needed answers. Cassandra had to know something.
She arrived unannounced at Cassandra's house, dismissing her driver with a lie about surprising her friend.
Inside, moans filled the air low, undeniably masculine. Serene froze. Cassandra appeared minutes later, flustered, cheeks flushed.
"Did you just get here?" she asked quickly.
"Yes," Serene answered carefully. "I was about to call you."
Cassandra claimed she was alone, but Serene's ears still rang with the echo of a man's voice. Confusion tightened her chest, but she pushed it aside.
"I need you to stop playing pranks on me," she said, voice shaking. She told Cassandra about the toys, the texts, and the sense of being watched.
Cassandra laughed. "And you don't enjoy it? Has Lucien ever given you that kind of attention?"
Serene bit her tongue. Cassandra was right. Lucien never had.
As if summoned, another message lit up her phone: "Come to this location. No panties."
She showed Cassandra.
"It's not me," Cassandra said. "But maybe you should go. See who's behind it."
"No," Serene whispered, though her body betrayed her. Heat pooled inside her. She cursed herself. She was shameless. And married.
Another vibration. This time, a video.
Her face. Her own body. Moaning, fucking herself with the dildo.
The text below it: "Do you dare refuse me now?"
Panic erupted. She fled Cassandra's house, called a cab, and raced home. She deleted her laptop's contents. She threw away the toys the panties. None of it mattered; the evidence was already out there.
Another video arrived. A masked man between her thighs, his tongue devouring her as she writhed in ecstasy. Her voice screaming his name.
Her knees buckled. That hadn't been a dream.
Her phone buzzed again:
"How would Lucien react to this? You'll leave me no choice if you refuse my kindness again."
The final line froze her blood:
"Thirty minutes. Be at the location. Or I show him everything."