QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 185: Punishment

185— Estela POV

I knew sothing was suspicious.

I tug at the restraints on my wrists—soft silk, tied above my head to the carved bedpost—and glare at my wife, who is humming happily in a robe, digging for sothing under the bed. Her dark hair is loose, a little wild, damp from our bath.

We ca back to the suite after dinner. She’d prepared a luxurious bubble bath for . Lit candles. Scattered rose petals. The whole romantic scene straight from a movie.

I had been so touched.

My heart was full.

I dozed off in the warm water, completely relaxed.

Next thing I know?

She carried out—bridal style, no less—dried carefully, whispering little nothings the whole ti. My heart? lting.

She dressed in this silky black nightdress that barely covers anything.

And then—then!

She tied my wrists above my head while I was half-asleep.

And now here I am: flat on the massive bed, wrists bound, glaring daggers at my very smug wife.

"Daphne Castellano," I say, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. My voice cos out breathless instead.

She peeks out from under the bed, eyes sparkling.

"Yes, wife?"

"You planned this, didn’t you?" I hiss, tugging at the silk again.

"All day—you were being suspiciously perfect all day!" I snap, tugging at the restraints again.

Daphne stands near the foot of the bed now, holding a mini briefcase. Her robe is hanging open just slightly, revealing a teasing glimpse of skin—smooth, toned, effortlessly tempting.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, utterly unapologetic.

She is not even denying it!

I glare, though honestly—my heart is racing, and not with anger.

I won’t lie—there’s a coil of hot anticipation low in my stomach.

But the pretending-to-be-angry part? Well, that’s half the fun.

"What’s in the case?" I ask, voice a little breathy.

She doesn’t answer. Just smirks, turning away slightly to block my view as she opens it. There’s the soft sound of silk sliding, tal clicking—little noises that only make my nerves tingle more.

Then she approaches the bed again. In her hand—a long, sleek silk tie.

My eyes widen. "What are you doing?" I ask, hesitating now, tugging at the already-bound silk on my wrists.

Daphne doesn’t reply—not with words.

She straddles my thighs in one smooth motion, leaning in close, her breath warm against my cheek.

Then—gently, firmly—she drapes the silk over my eyes and ties it at the back of my head.

The world goes dark.

My first instinct is panic—fast and sharp, fear prickling up my spine. I can’t see. My breathing speeds up. My hands flex against the restraints.

But—

A familiar scent. Daphne’s skin. The brush of her hair against my shoulder.

Her voice, low and soothing by my ear:

"It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just ."

And just like that—I calm down instantly.

Her tone... it always does this to . No matter what.

Before I can help it, I exhale, my shoulders relaxing into the pillows. My breath evens out, though my heart is still racing from the adrenaline and... well... everything else.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her lips brushing the curve of my ear.

I shiver again—damn her.

Then—she shifts, moving off with slow, unhurried grace.

And all I’m left with... is darkness.

Soft rustles. The faint creak of the bed fra.

Silent footsteps, light across the floorboards.

I can’t see her. I can’t predict where she is.

My ears strain, catching the smallest sounds.

A drawer? No... a clasp. A soft click. Silk sliding again. tal, maybe?

What the hell is she planning now?

The last ti Dee tied up like this... well. I was a sobbing, broken ss by the end.

She edged to the moon and back for hours.

Hours.

By the ti she finally let have release, I passed out—literally blacked out—from the sheer force of it.

Woke up later to her softly cooing at , feeding water, tucking in, looking so pleased with herself.

Does she have a kink for my tears? I swear... maybe she does.

She loves seeing wrecked—loves dragging out of my head, past every wall, every limit, until I’m gasping and crying and shaking in her arms.

And pain? No.

I asked her once, sort of joking but not really—if she was into that.

She looked horrified.

"Inflict pain on you?" she’dsaid. "I’d rather die."

But pleasure though?

That’s her damn cup of tea.Scratch that—her whole damn teapot.

She likes teasing . Controlling . Taking her ti. Watching unravel.

Wait.

Does that make her... a Dom?

...Maybe she is one.

A soft dom? Gentle, loving, but still...

I an, aren’t they the ones who love to take control, love seeing their partner fall apart under their hands?

That’s... very much her.

And—

My random thoughts shatter in an instant—

When I feel it.

A hand.

Cool and sure on my ankle.

I jump a little in surprise, instinctively tugging on the restraints again.

But the hand slides higher. Slow. Deliberate. Up the curve of my calf, fingers gliding over heated skin, making shiver.

Then—her voice.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

I barely manage a breath, already trembling.

"Sotis I want to hide you away," she murmurs, her fingers sliding further, stroking the sensitive skin behind my knee.

"But most tis... I love to show you off."

Her lips press softly against my ankle.

"I an—look at you. I love the envy in their eyes, you know?"

Another kiss, higher this ti—along my shin.

"It’s why I love playing dress up with you."

Her hand is higher now, gliding along my thigh with maddening slowness.

I squirm in the restraints. The silk tie over my eyes is warm now, my breath uneven.

"But then again..." her voice lowers, almost a growl, "...I get angry when I think of those horny n looking at you."

Her nails drag lightly, teasing across my thigh.

My breath catches.

"I know they’re thinking about you," she murmurs, voice a dark purr. "They want you."

A sharp inhale escapes , unbidden.

She sighs—frustrated, the sound low and dangerous.

"Then I rember... they can’t have you."

Her hand curls tighter around my thigh, fingers pressing in. Possessive.

"Because I will literally kill anyone who dares."

There’s a rustle of movent—a shift in the bed—her weight shifting beside .

Then:

"Like earlier." Her tone darkens, her breath hot near my cheek now.

"That man. The guide."

Her hand tightens just slightly, thumb stroking along the inside of my thigh now—higher, so close it’s torture.

"He didn’t have to touch you like that. Just to help you on and off a bloody cal."

I can’t help it—I giggle softly.

"He was just doing his job," I murmur, voice amused, breathless already.

She scoffs. A low, incredulous sound.

"Please," she says flatly.

The silk restraints above my head creak softly as I shift, thighs trembling beneath her touch.

"Dee..." I breathe.

But she isn’t finished.

Her hand glides up again—so close now I could cry.

"You should’ve seen his face," she says, voice low against my ear now. "So helpful. So eager. Like he didn’t know I was right there."

A soft nip of her teeth against my earlobe.

I whimper.

"I should’ve broken his fingers."

"Daphne," I gasp, half laughing, half desperate—hips twitching, thighs trembling.

And then—

I feel the bed shift.

Her warmth lifts.

She moves off.

"What—?" My breath hitches. "Where are you going?!"

I can’t see a thing. The blindfold stays firm over my eyes. My arms still tied above , breath coming fast. I’m strung so tight, nerves on fire.

Then I hear it—her voice, smooth as sin, from sowhere near the foot of the bed:

"This..."

A pause. A small, satisfied sigh.

"...is punishnt."

I squirm. "Punishnt? For what?!"

"For being too attractive." Her voice hums with mischief. "It’s exhausting, having a wife this dangerously beautiful."