Shameful | Congressman!Kylo x Reader

Chapter 38: Stranger Part 2

Sunday's supposed to be a day of rest? Nah, not anymore.

Clocking in at an embarrassing 16k+ words, I present to you Chapter 38, Part 2. I hope you guys have so much fun reading this, and I'm sorry it's so fucking long. Thought I'd get all sorts of shit out to atone for making you wait for so long.

This chapter's got drama, pining, jealousy, WAX PLAY, an undiscovered mask kink... I mention drama?

Buckle up, bbs, and I can't fucking wait to read ur comments. Thank you to each and every one of you for giving my maladaptive daydreams a read. It means so fucking much!!

ALSO, GET IN OUR FUCKING DISCORD (IF YOU'RE 20+): https://discord.gg/Ss93HxqBns

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"I fucking love sex shops," I whisper, clambering out of the Uber. "But is this really the right place for masks?"

"Yeah. Fetish masks," Rey clarifies, her voice dropping into a mischievous little hiss. "Among other things," she adds, pushing the front door open for me.

"Oh, fuck yes."

We're met immediately with the faint smell of silicone and the unforgiving, piss-yellow fluorescent lighting overhead.

This isn't an upscale sex shop, by any means. But it does the trick. It's depraved, truly. From the scuffed linoleum floors to the bare-looking displays of dildos the size of my forearm.

To our left, rows upon rows of lewd DVDs. To our immediate right, the checkout counter, flush with messy stacks of inventory piled into damp-looking cardboard boxes.

And straight ahead, any and every flavor of sex toy imaginable. Each section devoted to a different kink, a different body part, a different tax bracket.

Rey and I spend entirely too long gazing into a glass display case rife with the luxury vibrators – some for pulsing, some for poking, some for prodding – and subsequently gawking at the price tags.

My attention starts to drift. Kylo probably knows his way around a rabbit vibrator. Or I could teach him. Would something like this feel good against his...

"Masks," I utter, my mouth going dry. Rey looks just as distracted.

"Right, masks," she affirms, peeling her eyes off of a limited edition Hitachi. "But we can..."

"Yeah, yeah! We can totally, like, peruse... when we're... when we've picked our masks."

"Yeah."

I follow her silently toward the back of the shop where the leather goods are displayed on flimsy wire racks.

I take a deep breath. My eyes glaze over at the sight of the cat o' nine tails, the assortment of riding crops, the Shibari rope. Some Medieval-looking torture devices sit toward the bottom. Leg spreaders, hooks, pumps, chastity belts. My fingertips graze lightly over a pair of feather-trimmed handcuffs (These probably wouldn't even fit over his wrists, I think to myself).

I glance to my left where the fetishwear is displayed, and I feel like I've just stepped into wonderland. A leathery, slightly (very) menacing wonderland, more specifically. The items range from wet-look latex gimp masks to spiked full-body harnesses. No amount of prior sexual experience assuages my initial skittishness.

"Jesus," Rey says under her breath.

"There's no Jesus here, Rey," I murmur. "Only nipple clamps."