Page 68
Story: The Toy Collector
“Any plans for the rest of the break?” Teddy asks, swiping his card without looking at the total.
“Just recharging. Maybe get ahead on some reading.” And waiting to seeif Enzo will summon me during the holiday, if he’ll demand my time when I should be resting.
“Good. You work too hard.” He stands, helping me with my coat before donning his own. “Promise me you’ll actually relax? Not just say you will and then spend the whole time with your nose in a textbook?”
“I promise.”
Outside, the night air is crisp, carrying the scent of wood-smoke and approaching winter. Teddy hugs me again, tighter this time.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, the same words he always says, words that have been a lifeline more than once. “Anything at all.”
“I will.” I kiss his cheek, rough with a five o’clock shadow. “Thank you for dinner. For everything.”
He waves down a taxi for me, and as it pulls away, I watch him standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, making sure I’m safely on my way. I wave one last time as the taxi turns the corner, taking me back to my empty apartment.
My apartment feels too quiet after the gentle chaos of the day. I leave the lights off, navigating by memory and the soft glow filtering through my curtains from the streetlamp outside.
The wine sits heavy and warm in my veins, not drunk but not entirely sober either—that perfect middle ground where truth feels less dangerous.
Before settling on the couch, I change out of the green dress I always wear for Thanksgiving, and into an oversized long-sleeved sweater and a pair of yoga pants with a more forgiving waist.
I stretch out on the couch, my sweater riding up slightly, exposing a strip of skin to the cool air. The contrast makes me shiver.
My phone buzzes in my hand. For one heart-stopping moment, I think it’s him—Enzo. Which would make no sense since he’s never texted me before.
The message is from my bestie. A string of turkey emojis followed by a simple text.
Lee: Hope dinner with Uncle T was good. Love you, and can’t wait to see you tomorrow!! Remember what I said about the list ;)
After texting her back and ordering her to call me the second she’s back tomorrow, I open the Notes app on my phone, and stare at the blank screen. The cursor blinks, patient and accusatory all at once. What would I even write? Where would I start?
With the easy things, maybe. The things I already know I like. The things he’s already done to me that have left me begging for more.
I type, delete, type again. Settle finally on a simple header.
Kink List
Beneath it, I write the first word that comes to mind.
Blindfold
I laugh softly in the dark. It sounds so clinical, so inadequate. It doesn’t capture the feeling of having my sight stripped away, relying completely on my other senses. It doesn’t explain how my mind goes quiet, how the constant chatter of ambition and expectation fades when I can’t see, when all decisions are taken from me.
I add another.
Hair pulling
Again, too simple to capture the reality. But there’s no other way to really describe the slight pain that sends signals racing along my nerves. Or the way it makes me arch into him like a cat seeking more contact. How sometimes he uses it to guide me, to position me exactly where he wants me.
The list grows, each entry bringing memories that heat my skin despite the cool apartment air.
Spanking
Choking
My free hand drifts absently to my throat, fingers tracing the delicate skin where his grip has left phantom pressure.
Being called Toy
“Just recharging. Maybe get ahead on some reading.” And waiting to seeif Enzo will summon me during the holiday, if he’ll demand my time when I should be resting.
“Good. You work too hard.” He stands, helping me with my coat before donning his own. “Promise me you’ll actually relax? Not just say you will and then spend the whole time with your nose in a textbook?”
“I promise.”
Outside, the night air is crisp, carrying the scent of wood-smoke and approaching winter. Teddy hugs me again, tighter this time.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, the same words he always says, words that have been a lifeline more than once. “Anything at all.”
“I will.” I kiss his cheek, rough with a five o’clock shadow. “Thank you for dinner. For everything.”
He waves down a taxi for me, and as it pulls away, I watch him standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, making sure I’m safely on my way. I wave one last time as the taxi turns the corner, taking me back to my empty apartment.
My apartment feels too quiet after the gentle chaos of the day. I leave the lights off, navigating by memory and the soft glow filtering through my curtains from the streetlamp outside.
The wine sits heavy and warm in my veins, not drunk but not entirely sober either—that perfect middle ground where truth feels less dangerous.
Before settling on the couch, I change out of the green dress I always wear for Thanksgiving, and into an oversized long-sleeved sweater and a pair of yoga pants with a more forgiving waist.
I stretch out on the couch, my sweater riding up slightly, exposing a strip of skin to the cool air. The contrast makes me shiver.
My phone buzzes in my hand. For one heart-stopping moment, I think it’s him—Enzo. Which would make no sense since he’s never texted me before.
The message is from my bestie. A string of turkey emojis followed by a simple text.
Lee: Hope dinner with Uncle T was good. Love you, and can’t wait to see you tomorrow!! Remember what I said about the list ;)
After texting her back and ordering her to call me the second she’s back tomorrow, I open the Notes app on my phone, and stare at the blank screen. The cursor blinks, patient and accusatory all at once. What would I even write? Where would I start?
With the easy things, maybe. The things I already know I like. The things he’s already done to me that have left me begging for more.
I type, delete, type again. Settle finally on a simple header.
Kink List
Beneath it, I write the first word that comes to mind.
Blindfold
I laugh softly in the dark. It sounds so clinical, so inadequate. It doesn’t capture the feeling of having my sight stripped away, relying completely on my other senses. It doesn’t explain how my mind goes quiet, how the constant chatter of ambition and expectation fades when I can’t see, when all decisions are taken from me.
I add another.
Hair pulling
Again, too simple to capture the reality. But there’s no other way to really describe the slight pain that sends signals racing along my nerves. Or the way it makes me arch into him like a cat seeking more contact. How sometimes he uses it to guide me, to position me exactly where he wants me.
The list grows, each entry bringing memories that heat my skin despite the cool apartment air.
Spanking
Choking
My free hand drifts absently to my throat, fingers tracing the delicate skin where his grip has left phantom pressure.
Being called Toy
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