❤ Stockholm Syndrome 🔫 | ✔

🖤 Chapter 7 🖤 [M]

● WARNING ●
This chapter contains sexual content.
If you are not a fan of such, you can skip to the next chapter.
OR
You can still read it but at your own risk.
Enjoy!
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"Thank you! Thank you!" I scream at the top of my lungs, even though he's already gone. But does he come back? Bet your bottoms he doesn't.

I decide to sit in silence, dissatisfied now that I've eaten. I want to go to the ladies' room as well, but can't. I didn't realize my bladder needed to be released until the pain in my lower region makes its presence known. I wince as I try to hold it in.

I remember when I was younger, my mother would tell me it's unhealthy to hold in urine, and that I should go when I feel the urge. I listened to her advice, and whenever I had to go, it was a straight shot to the toilet.

But I'm afraid today will have to be different. Sorry, Mom.

I bear the chafe, biting and chewing on my bottom lip in an effort to ignore the pain I feel down below, and it works, for the time being anyway. I need to get out of here.

My eyes wander over to the table with the tools. A scissors rests on the table, along with a few weird-looking knives and other tools. If only I could reach those. I sigh and tilt my head back onto the headrest. James forgot to strap it back in.

I begin to feel tired. All the crying and screaming I did finally have an effect on me. My eyes slowly shut down, and I eventually drift into the realm of dreams.

I open my eyes and, to my surprise, I am not bounded to that infernal chair any longer. I am in my and James' bed back inside our bedroom...naked.

James walks out of our private bathroom, naked as a newborn baby, and stands at the door frame, his manhood pointing in my direction as he stares at me smugly. "Come," his dark, lusty voice reaches my ears, making my pores rise to the occasion.

I will myself to get out of the bed and waddle over to him. His hands slide around my waist and he pulls me closer to him, the hardness of his entire body pressing against me. He places a gentle a kiss on my cheek, then leaves a trail of them from my neck down to my collarbone. Gasps escape my throat as I enjoy each and every touch of his lips against my skin, my pores rising up.

"Come shower with me," he says, still kissing me. His lustful voice makes me comply.

We stumble back into the bathroom and I cross my arms around his neck and kiss him. He puts my back against the shower wall and turns the tap on to hot, all while still kissing me passionately.

The hot water hits our bodies, causing me to lean my head back, and gasp. His lips continue to move downward until he is finally twirling his tongue around my upper projections.

Not only does a sigh escape my mouth again, but also a moan that indicates my yearning for more. Then, I feel his length enter me, and he thrusts back and forth.

It goes on like this for a while, with me calling his name and gripping his back tightly as I enjoy his increased, vigorous ramming into my loins. Then it happens.

I wake up from my dream and find that I am wet down below. But not that kind of wet. No. I am greeted by the release of urine which dared to escape my bladder while I was in an imaginary, erotic meltdown with my husband. The wet stain shows through the blue jeans I am wearing, and a puddle is formed in the chair. I have no choice but to sit in my own urine.

The door opens and in walks the man that makes my loins crave him...in my dreams.

At first, I feel a wave of embarrassment as he approaches me. But then I feel relieved that he is here because now I have a reason to leave this ungodly room.

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☆ MARDAIS ☆

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