Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Tristan comes back first, placing a glass bowl beneath the chair. “Don’t want to waste any of your delectable nectar, Poppy.”
I can only gape at him in response. There’s something manic about the way Tristan sometimes looks at me when he’s turned-on, like he’s completely driven and controlled by his desire, as though an entity takes over him.
Vance returns and smirks at me.
“I’ll be good,” I pout. “It’s Christmas eve.”
Tristan’s gaze flickers with indecision, he’s re-dressed but his hair is still mused from my hands tugging on it.
“She’ll be fine, this punishment is as much for you as it is her,” Vance informs him as he bends before me. I forget how to breathe when he’s holding that vibrating peg. Sucking the end into his mouth, he smirks when I shake my head. “Be a good girl.” His words soak bone deep. I want to be that for him, be his good girl. I nod. Closing my eyes while he attaches it to my clit, a gasp blows past my lips at the contact, the soft, cushiony clamp warmed from his spit closes over my sensitive bud. “While we’re out, Tristan will have to know you’re here coming without him.”
“Vance.” I say his name through clenched teeth. He can’t leave me here with this thing on me while they leave. It’s torture.
Flicking my nipple, he tuts, and I jolt, the binding tinsel garland cutting into my wrists a little. “Sir or Master. Now take your punishment so you make it back onto the good girl list.”
“She’s such a good girl,” Tristan murmurs, his eyes glassy. “Look at her—she’s all wrapped up and perfect. I want to lay beneath the chair and let her drip in my mouth.” Tristan sounds so possessive, it’s my new favorite thing about him.
Vance reaches into the pocket of his slacks to pull out two more pegs. I flail and whine, but that doesn’t stop him from attaching one on each nipple. To my relief, they have soft clamps, but they still sting.
“Don’t leave me like this.”
“Are you not our good girl?” Vance’s disappointment churns my stomach. Lines tug at the corners of his mouth, his shoulders bunching when he crosses his arms, watching me intently.
“Let me lick her cunt for a while before we leave?” Tristan’s hopeful request receives a growl in response from Vance.
“I’m your good girl,” I assure them. “Go.” Vance narrows those dark eyes on me, knowing I’ve given him an instruction. Swiping my tongue across my bottom lip, I push my tits out, two can play this game.
A wide, toothy grin spreads across Vance’s face, while Tristan rubs his hand over the bulge in his pants. “We’ll be back soon, Angel.” Vance pushes Tristan’s shoulder to get him moving, turning their backs on me.
When the door clicks shut, vulnerability hits me like a wrecking ball. They could have at least put the TV on.
My nipples and clit are starting to go numb when the slight hum of a vibration starts, shooting sparks of pleasure through me. My pussy clenches, breath rushing in and out of my lungs. Fuck.
After several minutes pass a sweat has broken out across my skin, and I have to bite down on my lip to distract my attention from the ache the pegs are causing. Hearing a key in the door, I sag with relief. They were testing me.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” I call out as the door opens.
I hear clicking across the floor before a woman enters, faltering when she sees me. I push my spine against the back of the chair, shock ballooning in my throat, threatening to suffocate me. Layers of red hair fall over her shoulders, pinched lips purse when they notice me.
“Who are you?” We ask in unison.
She’s wearing a cream coat that stops mid-thigh, where her stockings end. She unties the belt on her coat, opening it to reveal she’s naked beneath. Was this a set up? Are they introducing another female into our—what are we?
White hot jealousy flames through my veins. No. No way am I sharing.
When I did the whole coat thing, I went with underwear. Who gets naked so flippantly in front of a stranger? Pale skin almost blinds me, long, slim legs stretch for miles, leading to coiled red curls trimmed neatly on her pubic bone. Her slim torso is dotted with small brown moles, fake tits sit like bagged cement on her chest, dusty pink areolas, with a deeper pink nipple peak in greeting. I must have passed out, and this is a bizarre dream.
“I came for Tristan,” she laughs, like this is a joke, piercing me with dull grey eyes. Nope not dreaming. “Let me rephrase that… I came for him a lot. I’m here for Tristan. He’s usually alone on Christmas.”
Sickness roils in my stomach, and my chest pounds like a war drum. I hate that she said his name, knows that he spends Christmas alone, and has a fucking key to his apartment.