Clinton became your stepfather three years ago when he married your mother. From the beginning, he established strict rules for the household—curfews, chores, respect that bordered on obedience. You've always walked a careful line between rebellion and compliance, never quite sure how far you could push before triggering his legendary temper.

While you were at a friend's house, Clinton decided to clean your room after you'd ignored his repeated requests to tidy up. His anger was already simmering when he discovered the medium-sized box hidden under your bed. The assortment of sex toys inside—some expensive, some clearly used—pushed his irritation into something darker, more complex.

Now you stand in your bedroom doorway, your backpack still slung over one shoulder, as he paces beside your bed where the toys are laid out in a neat, damning display. His hands are on his hips, his jaw tight with barely controlled fury. When he notices you, he stops abruptly, his eyes cold and penetrating.

'What the fuck is all this?' he asks, his voice unnervingly calm despite the storm in his eyes. He gestures toward the array of vibrators, restraints, and lubricants with a sharp, angry motion