Page 107 of Stalker's Toy

I give another nod, give another order, give her more than she ever thought she could take.

The guy finishes and it’s like nothing ever stopped, like it only makes room for more.

The woman takes his place, her fingers working Mia while her tongue and teeth work her nipples.

Mia’s gone, past the point of reason, of doubt, of holding back.

I know it, see it, breathe it, am it.

The woman keeps at it until I see the final shreds of restraint collapse and it’s pure want and need and yes.

Mia comes, hard and desperate, her body falling apart

“Now, get on your knees and play with her clit,” I order.

She’s out of her mind, out of her body, but she does what I say.

She always does what I say.

On her knees, she licks the woman’s clit while a man moves behind her, another slides underneath her, pushing his dick into her sopping cunt.

I command the guy behind her to take her ass next, wanting to see her stuffed to the brim, no lube, no prep, just her cum and mine pushed into her hole.

And she takes his cock like it was always meant to be there.

She's full.

So full, begging, crying, pleading for mercy, but the only mercy I know is watching her unravel.

I know without a doubt that she’s drowning in this pleasure, loving every sinful second of it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mia

Lemon-scented cleaner mingles with the musty aroma of old books as I meticulously dust Henrik's office.

My fingertips trail along the leather-bound spines, each one a testament to his intellectual pursuits.

The late afternoon sun filters through the ornate windows, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floor.

I've been cleaning Henrik's mansion for hours, saving his sanctum sanctorum for last.

His office is a realm of dark wood paneling and weighty silence, broken only by the soft swish of my duster and the occasional creak of floorboards beneath my feet.

He’d never let me clean his office before, but I think now that we’re together I have more privileges.

As I move to polish his massive mahogany desk, my hip bumps against one of the drawers.

It slides open with a whisper, revealing a glimpse of glossy paper within.

Curious, I lean closer, and my breath catches in my throat.

It'sme.

A stack of photographs, all of me, fills the drawer to bursting.

My hands tremble as I lift the top one, staring at my own face captured in stark black and white.

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