Dark Paradise by James D. Irwin

The guilt bled into the pleasure, and the lies made it exciting.

He wondered what she suspected, if she suspected anything. He was a bad liar. She deserved better. She could never know— no one could, ever. It was 8pm. She’d be tucking them in bed and making excuses for daddy’s absence.

Daddy has to work late. Daddy worked late a lot now.

It was a reflex now, the silent vow to stop. A token nod to the shame he should feel. Whatever sincerity that first promise held was gone.

The leather straps tightened around his wrists. He was stripped. He felt helpless, like a child. He stiffened in anticipation. His was a dark paradise.