His Baby, My Shame

They didn't just crave my body. They demanded my soul. I knelt at her feet because she commanded it. Abigail, a woman with emerald eyes that saw straight through my defenses, and her husband, Theo, a towering presence of raw, unapologetic hunger. They were a storm, and I was caught in their center-helpless, trembling, and desperately willing. My name is Wren, and I was there to please them. Bound by leather and their sinful whispers, I was their audience, their servant.
their toy. They invited me into their world not just to watch, but to participate in every heated glance, every possessive touch, every depraved promise.