Chapter 37: 🌶️🌶️Spontaneous Shoot

The game’s just ended. Sweat still stings my eyes, my thighs are on fire, and my throat’s bone dry. I yank up the zipper on my hoodie and walk out of the locker room, bag slung over one shoulder.

Jack: “Not bad today, bro. That shot—was it real, or just dumb luck?”

Me: “Bold of you to say that when you didn’t score once.”

He laughs, claps my shoulder, and heads off.

I hang back a little. Feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out without really thinking.

Emma (text): “Look at this 😏”

She follows up with two screenshots.

First one:

“For real though. Like, is that your guy?”

Second one:

“If there’s a man behind all this, he needs to show up. Even just a glimpse. If he’s the one in charge—I’m in.”

I raise an eyebrow, exhale a soft laugh.

Me (text): “Not exactly subtle, huh.”

Emma (text): “That’s nothing. There are way more like that.”

She sends another right after, not even waiting.

Emma (text): “One dude literally said: ‘I wanna see her get broken in.’ Word for word.”

I sit down on the low wall near the station, drop my bag at my feet. My stomach tightens—no stress, just that strange mix of anticipation and adrenaline.

Me (text): “Guess the poll was pretty clear.”

Emma (text): “They want a man. A real presence. Real control. Not just pretty framing.”

Me (text): “And you? What do you think?”

She takes a little longer to reply.

Emma (text): “I want it.”

Emma (text): “Really want it.”

I read the words again. And now, my dry throat has nothing to do with the match.

Me (text): “You wanna go for it?”

Emma (text): “Just one photo. A tease. Nothing too much.”

Emma (text): “Tight frame. Me on my knees. A leash. Your hand.”

Emma (text): “We post it. See what comes of it.”

I stare at the screen for a second, then type slowly.

Me (text): “Tonight.”

I slip the phone back into my pocket.

My heart’s pounding.

Not because it’s too much.

Because it’s real.

It’s late. The house is silent. I waited—lights off downstairs, footsteps gone, everything still. Now I’m here, standing in front of her door.

I knock twice. Quiet.

She opens right away.

She’s already ready.

She’s wearing nothing but socks.

Her hair’s down. Her eyes are hazy—excited.

She’s holding the leash—black leather, metal ring at the end.

She hands it to me without a word.

I take it. Let it slide through my fingers—slowly.

Then I move closer.

I wrap the strap around her neck. Gently. I tighten it, just enough. She shivers. Her eyes never leave mine.

Emma: “Think they’ll like it?”

Me: “They won’t even know what to say.”

I make her kneel. She obeys instantly. Back straight, knees perfectly placed on the rug, arms at her sides. That black leather against her bare skin—it pops.

I grab my phone. Frame the shot. Tight.

Her neck. The curve of her back. The leash held firm in my hand. Just a hand. Nothing else. But it says everything.

I take several.

One with her slightly leaning forward, ass barely lifted. Another from behind—just her shape, the leash pulled taut. And a final close-up: her parted lips, my wrist barely in the frame.

We scroll through the photos together.

She picks the best ones. Doesn’t say a word.

Then she posts the first one—with the caption:

Just for your eyes ... but tell me—wanna see what he does to me?

She hesitates.

Then posts a second.

A little more daring. Even hotter.

The caption:

My big brother’s got me on a leash. Should I obey?

She taps post.

Then keeps her eyes on the screen.

Emma: “Let’s see how they react.”

Barely five minutes later, her phone starts vibrating. Once. Twice. Then nonstop.

Emma: “Fuck ... hang on.”

She opens the app.

The notifications are flooding in.

Likes. Comments. DMs.

Emma: “It’s blowing up.”

She taps the first post.

Already a hundred likes. Over twenty comments. Climbing fast.

Emma: “Read this one.”

She turns the screen toward me.

“Leash? Dude? Okay. You’re playing with us now and I’m on my knees.” “Who the hell is this guy? He doesn’t get to have your body like that without showing his face.” “Tell me that’s your brother—I’ll lose it.”

Emma: “This one. Look closely.”

“If that’s really your big brother ... I think you just unlocked something in me.”

She bursts out laughing, half shocked, half high on the rush.

Emma: “Holy shit. We didn’t even have to push. This is exactly what they want.”

She opens a few more in a row.

“Who’s holding the leash? We need more!” “Roleplay or not, my brain is wrecked.”

She looks over at me, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, that sly little grin creeping in.

Emma: “I think you’ve got fans too now, Mister Anonymous...”

I chuckle, sit at the edge of the bed. My heart’s beating faster. But it’s not just arousal—it’s heat, deep in my gut. Something primal.

Me: “They want to see you get dominated. And me being the one who does it.”

Emma: “Or the brother. Or both.”