Page 34 of Good Girl
“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’mherefor 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.
Oh god. Oh god… How many more women does he have on rotation? I swallow down the lump in my throat and try to rationalize what’s happening when I realize he never made me any promises. Yet I want them. Envy mixed with hurt burns the edges of my heart.
“So?” She belts her coat, causing me to wonder if opening it in the first place was a cock measuring competition of the female variety. I’m grateful that she’s covered herself up and I don’t have to stare at her crotch any longer. “Are you their contract girl? He didn’t say he had a new girl on contract.” She casually walks around the chair, as if seeing me in it is a normal occurrence in this apartment.
“What does that mean, contract girl?” I scowl, squirming in my seat.
She laughs as she pulls a chair over, setting it in front of the one I’m currently tied to. I try to free my hands, but the tinsel garland painfully cuts into my skin. At least the vibrations have stopped so I can more easily inhale air into my lungs while studying the woman who has shaken me to the core.
“Tris and Vance like to fuck girls together. They have certain tastes.” She flicks her wrist to my bindings. “As you know.” Freckles speckled across her cheeks make her look young, however, the lines pinching around her eyes, suggest she’s older than first appears.
My chest hurts. She must see the pain on my face because she smirks and settles back in her chair. “Oh no. You thought you were special?” Not waiting for a response, she reaches forward to take the peg from one of my nipples. My brain struggles to register what’s happening when she leans forward and flicks her tongue over the sore bud, making me flinch.
“Don’t touch me,” I sneer. The violation angering me, dampening the hurt momentarily.
Holding her hands up in surrender, she raises her perfectly sculpted brows that match her hair color. “Sorry. I was only offering some relief. Those clamps are a bitch.”
No, no, no. The pulsing begins again, increasing in intensity so my thighs shake and my pussy constricts. It’s relentless, soI’m shaking and crying by the time it ebbs away. The bitch stares at me with a thin-lipped smile curling the corner of her mouth.
“What contract?” I eventually manage to ask through gritted teeth, pretending she hasn’t witnessed something so intimate.
