Lily’s mouth still tasted like Jack’s cum and her own spit from yesterday. Her throat felt scraped raw inside, every swallow a small fire. But the blindfold darkness had left her craving more—more nothing to see, more only feel, more only his control. She lay naked on the bed most of the day, legs slightly apart, fingers sometimes brushing her clit but never letting herself finish. She waited for him. Waited for permission even when alone.

Jack came in when the room was already dim. Evening light gone. He carried a small metal tray. On it: five thick white candles, a lighter, and a roll of thin black tape.