Page 31 of Obey

As we pass beneath the security cameras lining the ceiling, I catch Sloane glancing upward briefly.

“Restricted prototypes require constant monitoring,” I explain.

Her gaze flicks back to mine. “By security?”

A pause.

“Among others.”

I press my thumb to the reader, and a soft pulse of light confirms my identity, unlocking the gate with a muted hiss.

Inside, the space opens into controlled chaos—long worktables littered with exposed components, skeletal frames of devices mid-assembly, and engineers hunched over schematics projected onto glass walls.

No one looks up when we enter. They trust my judgment enough not to question who I bring with me.

Sloane absorbs it all anyway. Cataloging. Weighing. We stop at a central table where an almost finished device rests beneath a glass shield. I deactivate the cover.

She looks up at me, teeth catching her bottom lip before her attention returns to the prototype. “What is it?”

“The BRÉVÉ Étreinte.” I rotate the interface toward her. “Our first fully adaptive, partner-controlled intimacy system. It doesn't rely on preset patterns. It learns the person operating it, translates their movements into physical responses, and adjusts using real-time feedback from the person receiving them.”

Sloane studies the device. “So the Dom isn't just choosing settings?”

“Exactly. Pressure, timing, even the length of a pause can be intentional. Étreinte is designed to recognize those differences and reproduce them.”

“And does it?”

“Technically, yes. Our testers report exceptional physical satisfaction, but the connection isn't there. They can feel what the machine is doing, but not necessarily the person controlling it.”

She considers that. “How much does the software decide on its own?”

“More than I'd like. It's constantly optimizing the experience based on physiological feedback.”

Her brows draw together. “But what if the Dom doesn't want the optimal response?”

I look at her.

“What if they want to slow down? Make their partner wait? Change their mind halfway through?” She gestures toward the device. “If your software keeps correcting their decisions, then who's actually in control?”

“Explain.”

“You've built something that knows what the sub needs before the person controlling it has a chance to figure it out.”

“That's the point.”

“For the machine, maybe.” She gestures toward the sensors. “But if I'm giving someone that kind of control, I need to know they're paying attention to me. Not waiting for a screen to tell them what to do.”

I study her as she continues, intrigued by how easily she's put herself into the equation.

“There's a difference between someone knowing how to make my body respond and knowing what I need from them. Sometimes I might want them to slow down. Other times, I might want them to push me a little, even when I'm getting impatient.” Her lips curve. “And sometimes I might just want to be difficult because I know they can handle it.”

“Difficult?”

“Very.” She doesn't even pretend to be ashamed. “But that's part of it, isn't it? Trusting someone enough to let them take the lead without feeling like I've given up my right to have a say.”

Fuck.

She's discussing submission with the kind of certainty that comes from knowing her own desires. More importantly, she understands the responsibility that comes with accepting someone's trust.