Wednesday, September 10, 2025
Broken Obsession part 5
The Broken Obsession
Part 5
The phone buzzes again. My stomach knots as I read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Stand up and grab your crutches. Show off your cast. Walk across the room and back.”
Daniel leans forward, his eyes sharp. “Christy, no. Ignore it. Whoever this is, they don’t control you.”
But something in me stirs, hot and defiant. I press my lips together, my fingers brushing the silk over my thigh. “They’re watching, Daniel. They want to see me move. And maybe… maybe I want them to.”
I grip my crutches, their smooth handles familiar now, and push myself up. The leather skirt hugs my hips and leg cast as I rise. I swing forward, heel clicking, crutches thumping, every sound slicing through the hush of the restaurant.
Gasps ripple. Forks pause. Conversations die. Every eye turns toward me, toward the swing of my broken leg, the flex of my bare strong leg beside it. My calf tightens with each step, shapely and alive, while the other is rigid, trapped, an elegant weight I must carry for 6 weeks and maybe more.
“Christy…” Daniel’s voice is thick.
I pause, leaning slightly into the crutches, feeling the skirt sway around my thighs. “Do you like it?” I ask, turning my head just enough so he can see the heat on my lips, the flush in my cheeks.
His eyes blaze. “You’re driving me insane.”
Another buzz. My phone glows on the table. I go back slowly, every step deliberate, the sound of crutches cracking against the floor, my heel’s rhythm chasing after it. When I stop at the table, Daniel pushes back his chair, coming to help me, his hand brushing the side of my cast as he helps me lower back down.
The touch makes me shiver. The fiberglass is cold, unyielding, but under his hand it feels almost alive, like its part of me or something.
“I can’t stand this,” Daniel murmurs, his lips close to my ear. “The way they’re making you parade like this. The way I want you.”
I smile faintly, though my heart is pounding. “Its totally intoxicating.”
I let my cast rest against him under the table, the pink shell pressing into his thigh as I crossed my good leg over it once more, heel dangling, teasing between his legs against his erected penis.
The phone buzzes again. The words burn on the screen.
Perfect. Now touch your cast. Show him it belongs to me as much as it does to you.
My fingers tremble as I reach down. Daniel’s eyes followed every movement, pupils wide, lips parted. I let my hand glide along the curve of my pink cast at my knee, the fiberglass smooth and unyielding under my palm. I trace the rigid line up my leg, where my thigh used to move freely.
Daniel swallows hard. “Christy…” His voice breaks, thick with hunger and protest all at once.
“Does this… disturb you?” I whisper, letting my nails tap lightly against my cast inches now from my very wet panties. The sound is sharp, intimate, almost obscene in the hush of the restaurant.
He shakes his head slowly, though his hand fists on the table. “It doesn’t disturb me. It… consumes me. Watching you rub your broken leg like you do, caressing yourself, almost rubbing your clitoris in public and… that sexy and broken leg locked away inside that pink shell.”
Heat floods my chest. I tilt my body toward him slowly, the silk of my blouse brushing my hard nipples, my strong leg crossing tighter, heel dangling like a secret promise between his legs, my stilettos heel against his penis.
“You don’t have to hide it,” I murmur. “You can say it.”
Daniel exhales shakily, his hand sliding under the table, resting first on the edge of my skirt, then higher, until he grazes the side of my cast. The contrast is startling, his warm skin against the cold, rigid pink fiberglass.
“Say it…”
“You’re a fucking and sexy tease, Christy,” he growls, his voice low and gravely.
“I know,” I whisper back, my lips curling into a seductive smile while the metal heel of my shoe keeps rubbing his pulsating penis.
“But you love it.”
Part 6 to cum…