When the final day of Locktober arrived, I could hardly believe I’d made it. The days had blurred together into one long ache of restraint and devotion. Every time I looked at Caelyx—her red hair glinting in the light, that knowing smirk playing on her lips—I was reminded that my pleasure was hers to command. That morning, she greeted me differently. There was no teasing, no playful torment. Instead, she placed her hand on my chest, feeling my racing heartbeat, and whispered, “You’ve done well.” The words hit harder than any touch. My body trembled, not from denial this time, but from the realization that she might finally give me what I’d been craving. She led me to the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on mine, the key to my cage glinting between her fingers. The sound of the lock clicking open was louder than I remembered—like a door to a world I’d almost forgotten existed. As the metal fell away, I felt the weight of the past month lift with it. Caelyx didn’t rush. She traced the marks t
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