There are hot days when you get the itch. I tried doing something about it that morning, but I was almost late for work, so that half-started dalliance made my day even worse. At work at the bookstore, we didn’t get one customer, so I was sent to the back with Lucy to unpack boxes and catalogs.

She was my type. She had always been my type. Why didn’t I figure out sooner than I was her type?

I pulled up her dress, so easy with that loose soft cotton. Up, up until it was all the way to her tits. She held it there while I pulled the cups of her bra down just enough so that her thick nipples stuck out.

She was an inch taller than me and sort of awkward with her thin waist and big hips. She was sort of butch, I guess, even in a dress. Too tall, shoulders a little broad. She was a "field hockey girl," if that makes any sense. Tall, a little thick, a little too well built for some men’s tastes. I wanted her from the get-go. She was an R. Crumb wet dream, and I had her against the back room’s nonfiction shelf, and her face was getting lost as I squeezed her tits together and sucked on each dark brownish nipple.

Is it a power thing to want to make a girl come? It’s the thing that gets me off the hardest. And god damn, I wanted to make her come. I wanted to see that calm face I saw every day turn red, and those eyes get lost, and her sweet mouth try to bite back moans.

My hand was on her little pouch of a stomach and then into her plain cotton underwear, and then my fingers were spreading out in warm, soft curls.

"Oh, fuck…" she mumbled, sounding drunk.

She had light brown hair, short and curly, parted in the middle. Light green eyes, and she never wore makeup. She was perfect. In the heat and the half-hard haze, I was in, I noticed her looking at me all day. She smiled at me. She bumped into me four or five times as we passed in the cramped back room, her round ass against my crotch more than once.

I should have gotten the hint, but I just don’t get women a lot of the time. I always "think" they are coming on to me, but I’m never sure.

"Damn, it’s hot," I said an hour before throwing her against the bookshelf. She nodded and wiped her face and the bit of chest exposed by her low-cut dress.

"Yeah, you want to get something cold with me later on?" she asked, trying to be casual.

I eyed her. We had never really gone out, even to lunch in a friendly coworker way, in the six months I worked there. I smiled dumbly.

"Like ‘coworker’s getting a drink’ or like…"

She punched me on the arm. "Like whatever. Maybe like a date even, if you want."

I smiled really wide and nodded. "A date with you? Hell yeah."

"What does that mean? Hell yeah?" She was smiling brightly and blushing a little.

"It means I’ve been crushing hard on you for a couple of months now. But I get nervous asking someone I work without. It can be all weird if they say no."

After that, she bumped into me even more. Unpacking books and moving boxes became a sweaty flirtation. After an hour I couldn’t take it, which brings us to where we were…

She fumbled with my belt, then my zipper, and then she let out a sigh when she reached in and grabbed my hardness. She smiled at me, a wolfish look on her face. Hungry and biting her lip. I watched those eyes as my finger slipped between her lips, wet with her, and softly rubbed against the side of her clit. She winced with pleasure, her breath caught, and her hand squeezed me tighter.

She moved down, letting my hand slip out of her underwear, and she pulled my pants down a little, just enough to let my cock slip out.

Now, I had been hot and horny all day, not to mention flirting with her for the last hour. I was on edge. She wasn’t playing around. She jerked me roughly and licked the tip of my cock with her warm wet tongue. She wet the tip and then sucked me in. My knees almost gave as it felt like my brain was being dipped in hot butter. She knew what she was doing.

She sucked half of me in and then 3/4, her teeth dragging across the head and then the warmth of her mouth over me again.

"Wait… I’m pretty close already…" I said, feeling a little silly being so fast, but that was the kind of day it was.

I saw her smile as she kept sucking. She looked up at me, and I was lost. I wondered if she felt the same way I did. Did she like that I was under her control right now?

She flooded her mouth with saliva, and her lips and tongue slid faster and wetter against my cock. My hands clenched as she kept going. I tried to warn her, "I’m-slow down-" I pleaded, but she would have none of that. She sped up, holding the base of my cock with one hand and letting her other drift down to play with herself.

She moaned against me as she looked up, pleading, and that was it. The itch that built all day was finally scratched, and I came, shooting again and again into her. She never slowed. She swallowed it all.

As she stood up, I sank to my knees, panting.

"Holy shit.. that was…" I said, leaning against her leg. She smiled down at me, one hand holding up her dress as the fingers of her other worked under her panties.

I stayed there on my knees in front of her, watching her fingers move under her panties for a minute. Looking up at her, hair was in her face, and her mouth was open. I kissed her inner thigh, and I bit the warm flesh. I moved up, dragging my lips against her skin. She pulled the wet cotton aside, and I ran my tongue along with the soft wet hair and then slipped it into the salty-sweet slit.

She braced herself against the wall and pulled hard against her panties, pulling them farther to the side. She let two fingers open her lips for me, and I saw the soft inner lips glistening.

I sucked at each little lip. I let my tongue glide around her clit, which was very large and very hard and swollen. She grabbed my hair with her free hand and let out a gasp. I circled her clit hood, just grazing the pinkness that peaked out. She let out a little cry every time I made contact. I moved one hand up her thigh and licked two fingers. It was very easy to slip them into her. She was wetter than any girl I’d ever been with.

She was whimpering now, a little too loud. She was past being discrete. I pushed my two fingers in farther and started licking around her clit faster and then sucking on it. She started breathing hard and fast in time with my finger fucking. She clenched her fist in my hair and her thighs on my hand and came hard.

We heard the bells of the front door of the store just then, and in seconds her dress was back down, and my pants were zipped, and we were apart, though hot, sweaty, and bright red-faced.

Tommy let me hang with him during the summer break before my senior year of college. As I sat in the back he pulled up to a bar and a few of his friends jumped in. Lola opened the door I was sitting next to and climbed right over me to sit in the center of the back seat.

She was this little firecracker. Around my age. Short, feisty, jet black hair with bangs, and lips that were always bright red. She dressed all rockabilly, like some modern take on one of the girls in Grease.

We drove around for a while. Visiting Tommy’s haunts. Picking up beer. She didn’t say anything, she just watched me. At around eight, we pulled up to a burger joint and she looked at me expectedly after tap tap tapping on her phone.

"My Daddy’s not here, so you have to pay for my fries," she said plainly, looking bitchy and bratty at the same time.

"Is that so?" I laughed.

She didn’t laugh or even smile. She moved closer, sitting right on my hand pressing her big ass down on it.

"Yeah, it is. You have to or you can’t sit next to me," she said threateningly.

There was no irony there. It was a stupid juvenile thing, but it worked. She leaned back and stretched, pushing out her chest. I reached for my wallet.

Tommy left us alone in the car and went to talk to some friends inside. After eating her fries and most of mine, she chewed on her straw while she looked at me inscrutably. She unbuttoned the first few buttons of her navy blue dress, to expose a pink bra. I was hypnotized by her. She slowly traced the top of her bra with her finger, pulling it down a little, almost giving me a glimpse of more, all the time watching me.

“I think you like me,” she said with a self-satisfied grin.

I laughed nervously.

"I bet you’d rob a bank for a taste of my pussy," she purred.

I swallowed.

Just then her phone buzzed. She picked it up and read something, smiled, and then furiously typed a response. Then just like that, I was forgotten.

She leaned over me, her hands pressing painfully into my shoulder and chest, rolling down the window next to me and sticking her head out.

“Tommy we gotta pick up Frank!” she screamed.

With that, Tommy came back to the car and we headed for the bus station.

I saw him waiting there, leaning against a wall. Her “Daddy.” He wore a leather jacket, a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and boots. When we stopped he walked slowly to the car. He slid in the other side of the back seat, sandwiching Lola between us.

He was a little older than me. He had a chiseled jaw with some stubble. His hair was parted perfectly and slick with grease.

His hand went possessively to Lola’s knee. She turned and hugged him tightly.

“Hi Daddy,” she said almost breathlessly.

Then she kissed him. I wondered if I should go sit up front, but just then we started driving.

Lola and Frank whispered to each other. As they did, she became sweet and childish. Not the brat I had come to know, but some reflection of it. A brat who was put in her place.

“Him? The pretty boy?” I heard him ask her with a laugh as they both glanced at me.

She cupped her hand to his ear and whispered more, with her eyes on me.

“Rob a bank, huh? I bet he would too,” he said with a chuckle.

I blushed deeper, knowing what they were saying about me.

We drove to a pool hall at the edge of town and Tommy got out and went in. I got out too and took a few deep breaths of the night air.

I heard Lola and Frank get out. I didn’t want to face them, but I couldn’t ignore them when I heard them whistle for me, as much as I tried. I turned to see them walking into the alley behind the pool hall. Lola was motioning for me to follow.

In the shadows of the alley I saw them making out. They stopped as I approached and looked at me expectantly. I walked to them, unsure of what else to do.

Frank grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pushed me against the wall.

“You been taking care of my girl while I was gone?” he asked, though he didn’t sound mad.

"I’ll tell you what, kiddo, you want to play with her, you have to play with me a little first," he said with bravado.

I looked around and laughed a little. He was joking, right?

He pushed me up against the wall again, the cold bricks against my back. His face was suddenly close to mine.

“Come on, pretty boy, you said you’d do anything. She told me,” he growled into my ear.

He smelled like aftershave and whiskey and cigarettes.

She was behind him, arms around him, lips near his ear, eyes on me.

“Hit him, Daddy,” she begged and then bit her fat bottom lip.

He smiled at me, reached up and took my chin in his hand. It seemed like he was thinking about it, but then he turned away from me and grabbed her.

“What did we talk about, Lo? Good girls don’t make demands. What did we say?” he said, clearing his throat and walking towards her as she backed up and fidgeted with her dress.

“I’m not supposed to be a bossy little brat,” she said, looking down and fuming.

He grabbed her by the hair and spun her around. He flipped up her dress and smacked her ass. My eyes were glued to them.

He pulled up her dress a little more, exposing white panties with little hearts on them. He spanked her again, hard, and she let out a little yelp. A red mark the shape of his hand appeared immediately.

I followed his fingers on her skin, watching as he traced the mark he left, then the edge of her panties, slowly slipping just the tip of his finger under the thin material.

When his long fingers got to the crotch of her panties she arched her back and stuck her ass out as high as she could, standing on her on her toes. His fingers slipped between her thick thighs and I heard her let out a low whimper. I may have let out a similar sound.

I could see it, just barely. He pushed the fabric to the side just enough that a delicious little bit of pink was exposed and my heart was beating so fast it hurt.

"Well, kiddo, time to rob that bank," he said, turning to with daring in his eyes.

He slipped his finger across his bottom lip. I felt a scared little puppy whimper emanate from my chest.

My brain didn’t seem to command it, but somehow my body was moving forward.

He was tall. I felt small and clumsy next to him. He leaned down, then all I felt was stubble across my lips. It was embarrassing how much I wanted all of it, her taste, his mouth. He kissed me and I got light headed. My hand went up to his firm chest. I sucked his bottom lip and I could swear I tasted heaven.

He chuckled again as he let go of me and he reached up and grabbed my chin. He slipped one finger into my mouth and I sucked it greedily. His thick fingers pushed deeper into my mouth, two, then three.

"Look how much he take. Look at what a good boy he is, Daddy," she whispered to him, right in my ear.

“What do you say, kiddo? You want to be my good boy?” he said, rubbing his hand through my hair.

“Come on pretty boy, don’t you want to suck my cock? Just think how much Lola would like to watch you. She’d probably do anything to see it,” he said pulling me closer by my hair.

I fought his grip a little, trying to pull away, but his hand tightened around the back of my neck.

Did I want to suck it? It was complicated. It made me want to run out of the alley, but somehow I was sinking to my knees.

Lola was there with me, sounding excited. Then she was kissing my neck again.

“Do it for me,” she whispered into my ear.

“If you do it good, I can be your little girl tonight, too,” she promised

“Okay,” I choked out through a dry throat.

She rocked with glee and tugged at his belt.

“You’ll be great, I’ll show you what to do. Maybe, you know, you can call him daddy too, if you want,” she said and flashed a huge bright smile.

The smile of a spoiled brat that was getting exactly what she wanted.

Her bachelorette party was a complicated mashup of the different parts of her life. She’d had to carefully plan and prepare everyone in advance because most of her old friends, the girls she grew up with, were wild and from the wrong side of the tracks. While her new friends and her fiancé’s sisters were rich and fancy and kind of stuck up. Not that she didn’t like them, she did and in fact, she was hoping to become a lot more like them. That is, wealthy, classy, powerful, and respected.

The different cliques were easy to tell apart. On one side of the large room were her fiancé’s sister, Cynthia’s, friends. Clad in designer dresses with perfectly even tans and impeccable hair and makeup. On the other side were a few of Rebecca’s old friends, in little tube dresses or mini skirts. Two very different kinds of beauty, with Rebecca in the middle wondering which one she wanted to be.

She took a deep breath and straightened up as Cynthia walked over to her. “Oh my god, Cynthia, this place is gorgeous! That you so much for setting this all up!” Rebecca said as they kissed each other’s cheeks and smiled.

“I’m glad you like it! It’s super fun. I had Daddy’s assistant set everything up, including a very special surprise!” Cynthia said, glowing with excitement. Rebecca plastered a fake smile on her face to try and match her energy.

The music suddenly changed and everyone started to do some kind of two-step group dance. Rebecca couldn’t take it and so she escaped to the bathroom.

Her reflection in a huge mirror over the sinks greeted her and she grinned. She looked good. She’d been dieting to get into her wedding dress, but she still had some curves. Her tits looked amazing in the low-cut silver sequined strapless dress. Her cleavage was impressive and her breasts had threatened to pop out every time she hit the dance floor.

She instinctively arched her back a little and smiled at the effect in her reflection. She looked good. Good enough to catch a handsome, charming, ridiculously rich man. She was headed for the good life. Summer in Martha’s Vineyard, vacations in Europe or the Caribbean. A big apartment in the city. Fancy clothes and a maid. Still, there were things she would miss.

As she thought that, she heard the familiar sound of giggling and quick snorting. Tammy and someone in one of the stalls, doing coke, she guessed. She went over to the closed door and knocked.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Tammy said behind the door. Rebecca laughed.

“You’re not doing something illegal at my fancy fucking bachelorette party, are you?” She asked, and she heard Tammy sigh in relief.

“Fuck, Becca, you scared the shit out of us!” Tammy said, opening the door.

The was Tammy and her younger cousin Ariel. They were both wearing skin-tight black tube dresses and wiping their noses. “I thought you were a fucking cop or something,”

Rebecca laughed and considered asking them for a bump, but decided she needed to keep her head on straight.

“Nope, just the bride-to-be, checking on her delinquent friends. What are you two sluts doing in here?”

The two of them giggled and straightened themselves up, putting away their little plastic baggie of white powder and pulling the collar of their dresses up to cover their generous cleavage. “We’re just trying to make this party bearable!” Tammy said with

Rebecca frowned. She didn’t want to throw a shitty party, but she didn’t want to freak her in-laws out either. Looking at Tammy and Ariel, though, she knew those two would have fun no matter where they were.

“At least the stripper looks hot. I saw him in the parking lot. Do you think it is going to be like in those videos we saw online? Where a bunch of Karens all flip out and start sucking cock right in front of each other?”

Rebecca’s eyes widened. There was a stripper? She realized that must be Cynthia’s surprise. She wondered if what Tammy described was possible. She had seen Cynthia downing rosé all night. For a moment Rebecca imagined her leggy blonde sister-in-law on her knees like a Girls Gone Wild video and the idea wasn’t horrible.

“I doubt it,” Ariel said. “It’ll be like Magic Mike, if we’re lucky.” With that, the three of them fixed their lipstick and rejoined the party.

Back in the main room, the walls sparkled as a disco ball twirled and ABBA’s Dancing Queen played. Cynthia and her best friend Carly danced together, laughing and singing along.

Rebecca walked through the small crowd. There were about twenty people, half of whom were her friends and half were her fiance’s friends and family. Tammy and her cousin joined the girls at one end of the bar and Rebecca made her way next to Cynthia.

“Oh good, you’re back! You’re just in time for the entertainment!” She said, as the music died down and the cheesy DJ’s voice came over the speakers.

“Alright, Ladies! We noticed it was getting pretty hot in here. So hot, we thought it was a good idea to call someone. So welcome to the stage, Frankie, the hottest fireman in town! Let’s give him and his big hose a hand!”

A raunchy techno beat came on and the lights turned bright red and yellow. A tall college-aged guy came out in what looked like a firefighter Halloween costume. Rebecca rolled her eyes, but kept a smile plastered on her face. Cynthia screamed and most of the women rushed the little stage that had been erected in the center of the place.

His shirt quickly came off, followed by his pants, followed by everything else until all he wore was a skin-tight red speedo and a red fire hat. Rebecca tried to feign disinterest, but he was beautiful. Tall, broad-shouldered, thick, and muscular. Built like a football player. She found herself moving closer to the stage along with everyone else.

As Tammy had guessed, it was much more Magic Mike than porn. He danced and gyrated and winked at the crowd. People stuffed money in his underwear and hooted and hollered. Cynthia even touched his abs as she knelt down and offered himself to her.

It was stupid, the whole stripper thing. Who wanted to see some weird stranger gyrating and humping a chair? Rebecca shook her head as she watched, but couldn’t deny what was happening to her body. The guy was hot, that was for sure, but it was also seeing all the women around her go nuts, reach for him, touch him, blush, and scream. There was a wild energy that swept her up. She found herself reaching for him. She found herself hyper-aware as the other women pushed against her, trying to reach him. It was all getting her turned on.

Yet just as the crowd seemed to reach some kind of climax, the music stopped and the DJ’s voice rang out again. “Alright, let’s give it up for Fireman Frankie! He’ll be out for another four-alarm round in a few minutes, but keep the energy going as we get ready for the limbo contest!”

Rebecca’s worked-up body and mind weren’t up for limbo. They needed something else. When she bumped into Cynthia she put her fake smile back on. “Oh my god, this is the best party ever! Thank you so much for setting all of this up!”

Cynthia glowed in drunken joy. “Of course! You deserve it! Enjoy!”

Rebecca nodded and they hugged. Rebecca found herself holding her soon-to-be husband’s sister a little too close. The smell of her perfume and the heat of her body were addictive. She pulled herself away. “I got to get some air before the games!” She laughed to Cynthia, who nodded, smiled, and waved.

Rebecca stumbled her way through the crowd, dodging Tammy and the others, until she got to the door in the back of the club that led out to the parking lot.

The night was mercifully cool and quiet. The sky was purple, the sun having just set. Rebecca desperately wanted a cigarette, but didn’t have any on her. She looked around for someone to bum one off of and ran right into Fireman Frankie.

“Fuck, you scared me,” she said, hearing her Jersey accent come back as she was away from the crowd.

“Sorry, I needed to get out of there. Those girls are getting rowdy,” he said.

Up close, he looked younger. Maybe a college freshman or something. Rebecca looked him up and down and then looked around. They were in a sort of loading dock area, which was empty.

“You got some moves, but I’m guessing you haven’t done this long, have you?” She asked, walking up to him, while looking him over again.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and a tank top. His firm muscles were still visible. He shrugged, looking dopy and hot.

“Only my third show, but these rich chicks offered me like double the going rate. I figured, what the fuck. How’d you get in this swanky party?” He said, speaking in an equally rough Jersey City accent.

“How’d I get in? I’m the fuckin’ bride-to-be!” She said with a laugh. His eyes widened.

“No fuckin way! I’m Frank by the way. So you’re Rebecca? Like on the big ‘Congratulations Rebecca’ sign?”

She shrugged. “Becca. Yeah, I’m marrying up. These rich girls are paying for everything.”

He nodded, for the first time looking her up and down. Her back instinctively straightened and she pushed her tits out.

“Not bad. Not bad. You’re a girl who knows how to get what she wants,” he said with a smile.

“I usually get what I want, but these rich girls don’t know anything about hiring strippers. You didn’t even take this monster out and swing it around like the videos I’ve seen,” Rebecca said, with a lewd smile, reaching over and grabbing the thick bulge in his sweatpants.

Frank swallowed and raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, you’re a little slut, ain’t you? You’re getting married tomorrow and your family and friends are right on the other side of that door,” he said with a laugh, grabbing her arm, but not pulling her hand away.

“I don’t give a shit. This whole thing is getting me all wet and horny. Why don’t you take advantage of it? We can both get what we want.”

“I want to get paid, honey. I got a fat check and a fat tip waiting for me. I’m not blowing it for a little fun with some bored rich girl.”

She cut her eyes at him and squeezed his cock harder. “I’m not a rich girl, asshole. At least not until tomorrow. I grew up in fuckin’ Jersey City. I know how to party, unlike those stuck-up cunts inside. Now you want to get this big cock wet or what?”

She walked over to the loading dock and bent forward, sticking her ass out, then she slowly pulled her skirt up until her big ass popped out of it. Her panties were a tiny black thong and she arched her back as she pulled the crotch to the side.

“Come on!” She whined, bratty and demanding. “You can fuck my ass if you want, but my pussy is nice and wet. You’ll slip right in. You can even come inside me if you want. It’d be kind of hot walking down the aisle tomorrow,” she said with a growl of a laugh.

Frank was studying to be a sports agent and was funding his education through various jobs, both legal and illegal. He’d sold two girls an eightball of coke on his way to the party, in fact. He usually kept his head in the game when at a job, but the little slut in front of him had really hit all of his buttons.

He swallowed and walked towards her instinctively. He could smell her wet pussy, mixed with champagne and perfume. His big dick was throbbing in his sweatpants, making a tent in the gray fabric.

“Mm, that big cock wants out. I can see it. Come on, just slip it in for a second. I won’t tell nobody. I can be your good little slut who you can fuck during your break between dances.”

He shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t, but suddenly he was right behind her big ass, staring down at her shaved pussy. She looked back at him over her shoulder and leaned down lower, slipping her fingers between her legs.

“Are you going to fuck me already or do I just have to rub one out myself while you watch? The least you could do is pull out that big cock and give me something to look out while I finger myself.”

He growled, walking closer, his eyes glued to her fingers as they rubbed in circles around her clit. He knew he might regret it, but that pussy looked too inviting. He pulled his sweatpants down a little and let his rock-hard cock spring out of it.

“Yeah, do it! Please! I’m begging for it. Pleeeeaase. I’ll do anything you want!” She said, still rubbing herself and pushing her ass back towards him. He grabbed her hip and steadied her with one hand and slapped his cock against her wet cunt once.

“Yes! Please! More!” She whined.

As his cock slipped into her pussy, raw and wet, he groaned out loud. He reached forward and wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled her up by it. He fucked her like that, both of them standing in the empty loading dock. He reached up and grabbed her big tits.

“You’re just a little whore, aren’t you? If it wasn’t me out here, you would probably have fucked one of the busboys or barbacks, wouldn’t you?” He whispered in her ear.

“Probably. Any fat cock would do. Maybe when you’re done the rest of the staff can have a turn,” she laughed.

He reached up and grabbed her throat. “No, I think I like having you all to myself right now. My personal little fuck toy between sets. I might need you to come out after my second dance so I can use your ass like you said. This pussy is good, I wondered how much tighter your ass is,” he said, slowly closing his hand around her throat.

She moaned and squirmed against him, pushing her ass back against his thrust. His big dick deep inside of her. “You can use my ass. You can use me any way you want. I can be a good slut for you. I can take every load you want to pump into me,” she said, whispering obscenities and dirty promises until his hand tightened so much she couldn’t talk or breathe.

He fucked her hard as he choked her and her hands came up to his bulging arms, pulling at them as the fear rose up inside of her. After a few tense moments, he let her go and he could feel her growing even wetter from the danger.

“Jesus, you’re soaked. Are you going to come just from getting choked? What a stupid fucking whore,” he said, trying to laugh, then the pleasure pushing him into a new level of pleasure.

She coughed and sputtered, unable to say anything, only able to push herself back against his cock. His strong hands came back and her eyes flashed with fear as he choked her again.

“Come on my cock and maybe I’ll let you breathe again, you little slut,” he said, pounding into her furiously as his fingers tightened.

She saw a flash of white just before she came. From the back door of the restaurant, Cynthia, standing in a rectangle of light. Her dress was pulled up and she was furiously fingering herself with one hand as she recorded everything with her phone in the other hand.

The stripper let Rebecca’s neck go and she gasped for breath, just as he grunted and pumped his come into her as he slammed into her again.

Rebecca passed out for a moment. From the orgasm of the choking or the shock or everything at once. The stripper caught her and after a blurry moment, she shook off the daze.

“That’s again for doing this, Frank,” Rebecca heard Cynthia say in a hushed town. She saw her sister-in-law hand Frank a wad of cash.

“Now, you keep watch. We can’t have her going back to the party dripping come all over the place!” Cynthia said with a little laugh. Then she got down on her knees and pushed Rebecca back against the loading dock. Rebecca tried to ask what was going on, but she was soon silenced by the overstimulation of Cynthia’s hot mouth on her dripping and abused pussy.

“Damn, rich girls are fucking crazy,” Frank said, taking his own phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture.

Rebecca was going to correct him, tell him that she wasn’t a rich girl, but Cynthia was quickly showing her that rich girls knew how to have fun too.

“I’ve never seen working sleeve buttons up close. It’s such a beautiful detail,” she said, her fingers hovering over his light gray glen plaid.

The buttonholes on his sleeve were stitched in orange, a delicate but striking accent against the light gray of his cuff that implied bespoke.

“May I?” she requested, looking into his dark eyes.

He nodded, trying to suppress a grin.

She felt the fabric, examined it more closely. Her leg pressed against his as she leaned in.

“Gabardine? So soft,” she whispered.

He took a greedy gaze of her curly hair and her naked shoulders and the cleavage exposed by the deep dip of her summer dress.

“I’m Henry, by the way,” he said, extracting his sleeve from her intense examination.

“Sorry, I’m Lisbeth, I’m quite fond of fabrics.”

Two nights later, they met for drinks.

She had never been to a bar that was so fancy and secret. She rang a doorbell in front of what looked like a brownstone apartment in midtown. A man in a tuxedo answered and asked for her name. He then closed the door for a full minute before letting her in and guiding her through dark halls of red and black damask flocked wallpaper to a small booth hidden by a thick red curtain.

Henry sat with his legs crossed, sipping some yellow-green liquid from an old fashioned champagne coupe.

The maître d’ showed her to the seat next to Henry and then closed the curtain on them.

“It’s lovely to see you again,” he said coolly, then he pulled a small brass chain that hung against the wall.

A waitress popped her head in.

“Lisbeth, do you enjoy gin?” Henry asked.

She liked the occasional martini, so she nodded.

“Would you like to see a menu, or may I order for us?”

She shrugged.

“Your words, Lisbeth. You should use them,” he said, his eyes darkening.

His look made her back straighten, and her heart pick up its pace. It was odd that a stranger’s small disapproval should have such an effect. She demurred, wondering if he could tell her nipples were hardening.

“Yes, please order for me,” then rather instinctively, she added, “sir.”

He smiled. The waitress smiled.

“I’ll have another Corpse Reviver, No. 2, and you can bring the lady one as well.”

And so it was.

*

She watched, cat-like from the doorway, as he hung his suit up carefully. In the closet was a row of suits, brown and black and blue, pinstriped, windowpaned, chalk striped.

He laid his tie on a neat metal rack that hung from the wall.

She walked into the room and folded her short dress under her as she started to sit down on his bed, the only place available in his bedroom beside his rather futuristic desk chair, which seemed impolite to move to.

“No, no. You have been on the train, running around town in the heat, it just won’t do. Will you be a good girl and go to the bathroom and wash up for me?”

She was conflicted. She didn’t like the insinuation that she was unclean, but when he said “good girl,” a little spark blazed in her heart. She did want to be a good girl. She wanted that more than anything. If that meant a little soap and water, that was easy enough.

“If you don’t mind, of course,” he added.

“Yes, sir. I’ll go clean up.”

She walked down his long hall and closed the door behind her when she entered the old Manhattan bathroom. A thick porcelain sink with a delicate pattern of tiny veined cracks, crooked tiles that were probably once perfect but were now a different kind of beautiful in their chipped lived-in elegance.

She glanced at the claw food bathtub and wondered if he meant for her to take a bath. The thought was tempting.

What did clean up mean?

She saw a neat pile of folded washcloths on the windowsill. She picked one up and soaked it in water. She washed her hands and arms. She dabbed at her face, not messing up her make up. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Where are you dirty?

*

Back in the bedroom, he was busy putting his things away. She sat on the bed and saw there was now a large glass of ice water and a small glass of whiskey waiting for her on the bedside table.

He was at his desk, opening a dark wood box. She sat up to see into it. Looking around the room, she noticed that he had many cases and boxes and containers—a place for everything.

Inside the box on his desk were a collection of cufflinks, collar stays, tie bars, pins, a pocket watch, a cigarette case, and other items she couldn’t place. He hung his watch on a little oval stand in the box and placed his cufflinks neatly with the others.

Then he unbuttoned his lovely shirt. There was something significantly arousing about watching his fingers undo buttons, pull at sleeves, expose skin.

He wore a simple but perfectly white a-shirt underneath.

He turned on her with a grin.

“Well, now, let’s see how well you’ve cleaned.”

She was taken aback by the sentence.

“Sir?”

“I want you to get on your hands and knees on the bed and pull off your panties for me. Will you do that for me, Lisbeth?” he asked with a calm voice as if he were asking her to fill out a form in an office.

She really wasn’t sure. Things were not going how she expected them to go, but she did want to be a good girl.

“Wh-what are you going to do then, sir?”

He clenched his jaw for a moment, then relaxed.

“I’m going to inspect you. In fact, in the next few minutes, if you agree, I’m going to look over every inch of your pretty body and see exactly how I want to use it,” he explained both coolly and concisely.

She swallowed. The thought of doing what he said instantly made some kind of strange sense to her. It made her squirm. It made her heartbeat so fast and hard it sort of hurt.

He stood with his hands behind his back, somehow still looking very fancy even though he was just in an a-shirt and his lovely gray pinstriped trousers. His suspenders hang at his sides, a detail that made her even more aroused.

“We can talk a bit and relax instead, but I thought you might like this kinky game, perhaps as much as I do. To use you like a little doll or a toy. You see, I very much enjoy collecting pretty things. You see all my ties and cufflinks and etchings and bobbles,” he said, waving his hand at the various objet de art on his wall and bookshelves.

“But before finding the perfect use for something, I have to examine it. I have to see how it works. Sometimes I even have to be rough with it, see how durable it is. Do you understand?”

She wanted to say yes, but the word got stuck in her throat.

So he waited.

She took a sip of water. It was very cold and very refreshing.

“Alright, sir. That all sounds very nice,” she said, her voice like a little mouse.

He smiled wide and then clapped his hands once, which made her jump.

“Excellent. I’m delighted you are up for that. Now, do you remember what I wanted you to do?”

She took another sip of water and then got up on her hands and knees on the bed, feeling a little foolish, but also a bit dizzy from the knowledge of what he was planning.

“On my hands and knees, sir?

“Yes, and?”

She blushed.

“And, um, pulling down my panties, sir,” she said, pulling up her dress a bit, trying to pull down her panties without exposing herself too much, then chiding herself because he was going to see everything soon enough.

The thought made her face get even hotter. Then the thought of how wet she was getting and how he would soon know!

She got the panties down her legs and slipped them off, putting them neatly on the table next to her water.

He moved forward, standing next to the bed, and put his hand on her back. His touch, even so, simply a touch, made her stomach tighten and her hips roll a little involuntarily.

He leaned down, pushing her hair away from her ear.

“That was excellent. You are being a very good girl so far. I want you to make sure to let me know if you want me to stop doing anything I’m doing. We won’t need any fancy safewords, a simple ‘no’ will do. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, hyper-aware of the subtle smell of his cologne.

He had said it. He had called her a good girl. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, sir. I understand. Um, sir? Before you examine me, could you, um, kiss me first? Sir?

He reached up and brushed her cheek with his manicured nails. He smiled warmly.

“No.”

Mommy left for work at seven, but Daddy usually stayed in bed until at least eight or nine, so Katie would sneak into his room, quiet as a mouse.

She knew it was bad, and she knew Daddy would feel guilty after, but she also knew how to get what she wanted. Katie knew she had certain things that Daddy couldn’t say no to. She knew if she sat on him and rubbed against him like she did with her pillow sometimes, he couldn’t help himself.

She knew if she begged him to kiss her pink bits, he couldn’t say no. If she came in with no panties and rubbed herself in front of him and showed him her little pussy and asked him to kiss it, he would groan, and his eyes would go wide, and then he would be on her.

Sometimes she would even crawl up the length of his body and sit right on top of his face! It always made her a little embarrassed, but Daddy liked it so much his eyes would sort of go far away, and then she could get him to do anything she wanted.

If she asked him to rub against her with his thing, he would do it as long as she promised they would be good and not slip it in. If it was just rubbing, it was okay. She just got so slippery and so puffy and hot. And Daddy’s big cock got so hard, it always just slipped in accidentally.

He would get so worried and pull away, but she would wrap her legs around him and tell him it was okay. It was just for a second. It just felt so good. She would look in his eyes and whisper that she loved him and that it was okay and that it felt so good and he could pull out before he squirted his stuff.

Then he would change a little, from nervously slipping it in, to really pushing it into her hard. He would fuck her. He would spread her legs so that he could go deep inside of her and that when she would feel the tingly feeling start.

She would ask permission, as always, when she felt the tingly feeling coming. It always made Daddy excited when she was going to come. Usually, when he was fucking her, he would always say yes.

When the feeling was almost there, when she started trembling and her body started tensing, she would look her Daddy in the eye and pout as pretty as she could and in her sweetest voice say, "Daddy, if I were prettier would you come inside of me? If I was a really good girl, would you do it? Would you shoot your come inside of my pussy?"

He would make the silliest noise. She would let the orgasm come and rip through her body, watching Daddy fight against the desire to come inside of his daughter.

He would always give in and do it. Katie always got what she wanted. Including banana pancakes after.

Back at school, we had this vast circle of friends, mostly orbiting Jasmine. We’d all gone to college together in Upstate New York, and when we graduated, we moved to the city together. There were lots of us then, but over time, people moved away, got married, or just got burned out by the city until there were only five of us left.

Rafael was the flamboyant one. A singer and dancer on Broadway, just like he’d always dreamed of being. Wiry and handsome, with dark hair and dark skin. Jada was the smart one. A math professor turned tech startup maven. Buttoned up with a short black ponytail and fashionable black clothes. Jasmine was the loud one. Extroverted and brash, she worked in marketing and loved to dominate conversations. She was the prettiest one of us, too. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark tan skin. Short and petite with thick thighs and a big butt. Her black hair in a short choppy pixie cut. Every outfit she wore seemed to be a masterpiece of fabric that almost fell off her body. Dylan was the brooding, hot one. Tall and kind of mysterious. He was an architect and a perfectionist.

Then there was me, Joon, the quiet one. I was an editor at a magazine, and I was the one always watching, always listening, but rarely talking. I liked it that way.

We had gathered at Jada’s new place. It was a beautiful brownstone on an idyllic street in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I’d once lived in an apartment in a similar building and couldn’t imagine having enough money to own the whole thing.

She had bought the brownstone a few years before and had been having it designed and constructed to her very specific wants. As she gave us a tour, I was amazed at the vast kitchen with an eight-burner stove and a giant island in the center. The first floor held the kitchen, dining room, and office. The living room and master bedroom cover the entirety of the second floor of the three-story building. The top floor had two guest bedrooms and a gym. All for one person!

“I’m hoping to get all the final touches put on this month, because Architectural Digest said they want to shoot some pictures for the January issue,” Jada said with a self-satisfied grin.

As always, at these sorts of things, I became fixated on Jasmine and Dylan. How they argued and bickered like siblings. How they teased each other. How they watched each other. I couldn’t believe nobody else noticed. I’d been aware of their little dynamic since senior year.

And who could blame them? They were both so pretty. There was something about the fact that he was so tall and broad, and she was so short and petite. As he stood next to her, I guessed he was at least a foot taller, if not more.

“Isn’t this a lot of space for one person?” Dylan asked. Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Fuck, Dylan, don’t be so provincial. Jada has the money, so why not get the most fabulous place you can?”

Jasmine seemed far more offended than Jada, who only shrugged. “I like it here, and I’m going to sell it in a couple of years anyhow, when the market is right.”

Dylan scoffed. “Of course. Brilliant Jada is always working an angel,” he said, and Jada grinned.

“And Dylan always finding a way to be judgy,” Jasmine said with a shake of her head.

And the whole time, I watched how their bodies seemed drawn together. How the arguments seemed contrived. Jasmine poked at him, and Dylan seemed to keep score of every bratty response.

We all went down to the living room, and Rafael popped some champagne. Our friend’s group had always been drinkers, but as we’d gotten a bit older, we’d sort of split into those who drank a bit more responsibly, and those who didn’t. Plus, we’d got through flirtations with various drugs through the years. THC edibles being the current favorite of the group.

I sipped champagne to be polite, but hardly drank anything. I had a plan, and it involved being sober. Everyone else seemed to decide it would be an old-fashioned party, and the pot came out, the liquor flowed, and Rafael put on a playlist of our favorite songs from college.

At around nine, the gourmet pizzas arrived. At ten, the edibles seemed to kick in for everyone who took them. By eleven, everyone was drunk and laughing. Everyone but me. I smiled and listened to everyone reminisce and gossip. All the time, I watched Jasmine and Dylan.

At around midnight, I saw the telltale sign. Jasmine stretched and rubbed her neck. I’d often seen her do that just before she and Dylan found excuses to go off together. I settled back in the little loveseat I was on and laid down, putting my feet up and closing my eyes.

“Well, I’ve got to get home. I have rehearsal tomorrow,” I heard Rafael say.

“I think my days of partying after midnight are behind me,” Jada said with a laugh. “Oh, Joon’s already asleep. You two feel free to party and sleep on the couch,” she said to Jasmine and Dylan.

With my eyes closed, I could only hear shuffling. The moving of bottles and pizza boxes. Jada shutting the door to her bedroom. Then I held my breath and waited.

I heard whispering. I tried to focus on the sounds. I could sense, even with my eyes closed, that some of the lights were turned off. The music was still on, but lower.

“You really think I’m letting you go home?” Dylan whispered, and Jasmine made struggling whimpers. “You’ve been a little bitch all night,” he said, and she whined again.

Experimentally, I opened one eye a little. They were on the couch across from me. Jasmine was on her back, and Dylan was on top of her, holding her wrists down at the sides of her head.

“Well, I was wondering how much of a bitch I would have to be until you did something about it,” she said with a pout. She struggled against his hands, but he was twice the size of her.

He let go of one of her wrists, and she tried to push him away. He slapped her across the face, and she froze, breathing hard. His hand went to her neck. “What did we talk about last time?” He said, his voice low and gravelly.

“I forget,” she said with bratty impertinence.

He slapped her again, and his hand went back to her neck, tightening around it.

“What did we say last time?” He asked again, his voice even harder.

My eyes were wide open, and I watched as Jasmine’s face seemed to fight between brattiness and submission. “Whenever we are alone, I’m just a fuck toy for your pleasure,” she said in a whisper I strained to hear.

Jasmine’s cheeks went red, and her eyes seemed huge and shimmered. I realized Dylan was still choking her. The red in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face, and then she went a bit purple before he finally let her go. She coughed and gasped for air as Dylan laughed.

“Good. You’re always extra wet after you get choked a little. Isn’t it?” he asked, and the usually sassy Jasmine was silent.

He got off the couch and pulled her up by her hair. She stood rather nimble as he pulled off her beautiful silk top. Her breasts were small and pert with large, puffy nipples. She was more beautiful than I imagined, naked. There was something about the red-faced pout that she had that made her far more alluring.

Dylan was hotter, too. His noble stoicism was replaced with a confident dominance. Her body was his to use and play with. I felt my thighs squeeze together as I watched them.

He pulled off her skirt, next. There wasn’t much teasing there, or modeling her expensive-looking silk panties. He pulled them off and left her standing there naked and vulnerable.

“And what a perfect little fuck toy you are,” he said, almost to himself, taking a greedy handful of her round ass. His large fingers made red marks on her soft thighs and bottom.

He pulled off his own shirt, exposing a broad chest and thick, muscular arms. Then his belt came off, and I watched Jasmine’s eyes widen.

He’d hit her with that belt. He’d hit her, and she’d like it. Fuck, I wanted to see that.

Then his boots and jeans came off, followed by his boxers. His cock was fat and hard. Thick and perfect. I couldn’t believe I was really seeing it all.

He turned her until she was facing me. I hoped the dim light of the room and their attention on each other would hide my open eyes. He stood behind Jasmine, and his big arms went around her. One hand between her legs and one hand on her breast. He groped and fondled her possessively.

With a quick motion that seemed vaguely like a martial arts move, he twisted Jasmine around and put her on her knees. She opened her mouth automatically and licked and then sucked the head of his thick cock.

“Good girl,” he purred, and he held her by her hair and guided her head up and down.

After a few minutes of this, he pulled her back up and spun her around again, so her back was to his chest. I strained to see exactly what he was doing, until I realized his cock was between her soft thighs. Not fucking her, but slipping between them. When I looked up, his eyes were on mine.

“Hey Joon, if you want to watch me fuck my little toy, you’re going to have to make yourself entertaining. Either that, or we’ll have to ask you to leave,” Dylan’s voice rang out through the room.

I shut my eyes, stupidly. I was caught. I knew it. There was no use in pretending.

I opened my eyes and saw him looking right at me. Jasmine was looking at the floor, her face bright red again. Though she seemed to be enjoying the cock that was rubbing against her pussy, teasing her.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hearing my own meek voice ring in my ears.

“I’ve always wanted to see those big tits. You always keep them under wraps. I tell you what. You can say and watch if you strip and come over here. Lay on the floor next to us. I can fuck my toy while I watch you fuck yourself. That, or you can go listen from behind the door.”

Shame and need exploded inside of me. How was Dylan so good at making someone into a wet, messy slave? It wasn’t even really a question. Of course, I would do what he said. I just wondered how I would work up the courage.

He seemed to understand all of that. “Get up,” he commanded. I stood, unable to meet his eyes.

“Come over to the coffee table,” he commanded, pointing at the floor about ten feet from him. I did, immediately.

“Jasmine is going to help you take off your clothes. She’s been waiting for a moment to show some of our friends this side of her. The perverted little sex toy who does exactly what she’d told. It’s the real Jasmine,” he said with a cruel laugh.

“Go over and help Joon. I want to see those tits,” he said hungrily.

I was curvy, though I dressed to hide it. I didn’t usually like attention. Though at that moment, his admission of wanting to see me naked sparked a flicker of pride.

Jasmine walked over to me slowly. Her eyes were on the floor. Her whole face and chest were red. She somewhat robotically started on the buttons of my blouse. I looked down at her and whispered, “Is this okay?”

She glared at me, shocking me with a sudden look of anger. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. Then, her eyes seemed to soften. There was desperation there, past the anger. I let her slip off my blouse and then moved my hair as she went behind me and undid my bra.

“Ah, there they are. What a treat. I can use Jasmine’s pussy while I look at those. Perfect. Off with the rest of it and then lay on the couch,” he said with a cocky grin, walking to the end of the couch.

I went to help Jasmine with the zipper on my skirt, but she pushed my hands away. “He said for me to do it,” she whined. God, she looked pretty when she pouted.

I lay on the opposite end of the couch. I couldn’t remember the last time I masturbated in front of someone, even a partner. Still, there was a thrill in it. There was a comfort, too, in doing what Dylan said. Like it wasn’t my choice or my fault. It was something demanded.

I spread my legs, embarrassed at my somewhat untamed public hair, as I looked up at Jasmine’s shaved or waxed pussy.

Jasmine stood at the foot of the couch with Dylan behind her. He pushed her over the arm of the couch and lifted her up a bit so that she hung over it. It gave him the right angle.

“See how wet you got her, Jas? How does it feel to know everyone looks at you like a pretty little fuck doll?” He said as he slapped her ass a few times.

Jasmine said nothing, she only blushed and whined. I felt my own face grow hot, being part of their complex dynamic of objectification and teasing torment.

For a moment, Jasmine’s eyes met mine. There was a mix of raw desire and shame and pleading. I didn’t know what exactly she was pleading for. Then her eyes went to my body, my breasts, my pussy, and I felt even more exposed than having Dylan’s eyes on me.

One hand went to my pussy, and the other went to one of my breasts. I pushed up my hips as Jasmine watched. My eyes went from Jasmine’s intense stare to Dylan’s cocky grin.

“Fuck, watching you make her even wetter,” Dylan said. I watched him as he slipped his cock into her. I tried to process all the things that were happening at once. I was watching two people have sex right in front of me. I was seeing two of my best friends fuck. I was naked in front of them, rubbing my clit and putting a show on.

“Jas, you can see her clit. It’s hard and poking out. And her fingers are wet. Look at how her hand grabs her breast, squeezing it tightly,” he said between low grunts as he fucked her. I felt the rhythmic bumping against the couch. My fingers slipped into my cunt, and I fucked myself with two fingers in the same rhythm.

Dylan leaned forward, kissing Jasmine’s neck and then whispering into her ear. She whimpered and whined and shook her head. He only laughed and fucked her harder, slapping her ass again, so loud I was sure Jada heard from her bedroom.

“I’m not allowed to come until you come,” Jasmine said to me, through gritted teeth. She looked embarrassed and almost drunk with lust. Dylan slapped her ass hard again.

“So please come for him, so I can come,” Jasmine continued, unable to keep looking me in the eye. Dylan spanked her hard, goading her to continue.

“I want to come because I’m a greedy little fucktoy,” she said in a rush. Then she tried to hide her face in the couch, but Dylan grabbed her hair and forced her to watch me.

It was so strange being another tool in their game, still, I wanted to come. I wanted to see her come. I felt words bubbling in my mouth, but I didn’t know if I had the strength to say them. I took a deep breath and willed my desires to be voiced.

“I need to see her tits if you want me to come. I need to see her cunt. I need to see your cock going in,” I said, with power in my voice to start, then the shame slowly brought me to a whisper.

Dylan’s smile went wide. He watched me and considered.

“Well, let’s figure that out,” he said, slipping out of Jasmine, who whined and pouted at the sudden lack of his cock inside of her.

He pulled her by the hair around and laid her on the wide arm of the couch, putting her on her back. Then he spread her legs wide, holding on and pushing the other down onto the couch, so that she was half facing me, her breasts and pussy exposed. I felt my body shiver with lust.

Then I saw his big cock pressed against her neat, bare, little cunt. His cock looked obscenely large against her. It looked impossible that it would fit. Yet, as I watched, he spit on his hand and rubbed the head of his cock. Then he aimed it at the wet core of her and pushed forward. She gasped and let out a long breath as it stretched her and slowly slipped back it. Then it was inside of her, seeming like it would split her in half.

My fingers sped up in circles on my clit. My fingertips pressed harder, my body shifting down on the couch, my hips rising up higher.

He fucked her in deep long strokes. For the first time, his eyes weren’t on me; they were closed as he enjoyed what I imagined was the pure heavenly tight wetness. I focused on his cock going in and out, wet and hard. I wanted to feel it inside of me. I wanted to be the one getting fucked. I wanted all of it at the same time.

My hand was a blur as I rubbed faster. My ass tightened, my thighs flexed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hear myself saying over and over.

Dylan seemed to pick up his pace to match mine. Jasmine’s eyes were on my cunt just as mine were on hers. “Fuck, close,” I told them.

“Are you going to come with her?” He asked Jasmine, who didn’t seem able to speak. “Because I’m going to come from listening to her. I’m going to come deep in your pussy, while I watch her finger herself. I wonder what her pussy feels like. I can almost picture coming inside of her. Shooting deep inside of her, raw, fuck…” Dylan said, his words becoming mumbling moans.

“Coming!” I announced as the pleasure and warmth shot through me like lightning.

“Fuck!” Jasmine said as my orgasm gave her permission to have one herself.

“Oh fuck!” Dylan said as he joined us.

I could picture it. I could almost see the head of his cock deep inside her tight pink wetness. I could see it shooting come. How he had said he was imagining coming inside of me. I pictured that, too. I came so hard that my head throbbed, and my heart pounded painfully.

There were a few moments where we all just panted and gasped for breath. Then, I watched as Jasmine climbed away from Dylan. She crawled towards me, and suddenly, our naked bodies were entwined. She was small and seemed drained of both energy and all of her usual brattiness. She was little, and I cuddled against her, kissing her forehead.

Dylan stood tall and stretched, seeming spend as well.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw the door to Jada’s bedroom was open. I saw her in the dark frame, wearing a long robe that was open. She had one hard on one of her breasts and the other between her legs. I squirmed in pleasure.

“Take a breather, but I’m going to have to use you again in a few minutes,” Dylan informed Jasmine. She nodded and then buried her face in my neck again.

“Will you help me get ready for him? He’s so big, I have to be really wet,” she whispered in my ear. Then she straddled my leg and rubbed her wet, leaking pussy against it. I kissed her cheek and nodded. Then, she kissed me sweetly on the lips.

And so, after so many years, our friendship found a variety of new directions to grow, and our parties were never the same.

She was tied to a table. The ropes were thick tan hemp, coiled neatly around her wrists and ankles, in complex webs across her chest, and binding her tightly to the broad wooden surface. Her arms and legs were spread, her light brown skin had a patina of sweat. She radiated need.

The guests of the party stood around the table and examined her. They held sweating glasses of white wine and laughed as she squirmed.

Alma was at my arm, graceful and aloof. It was fun to kiss her in front of Bee, knowing the crush she had on both of us. Bee strained against the rope, and her gag as the pretty blonde and I made out. Alma was such a good kisser I almost forgot that it was mostly for show.

It wasn’t really Bee’s fault. I had worked her up to a state so that she was less a pretty girl and more an animal.

I sat Alma on the table. She was in nothing but garters, stockings, panties, and a bra. She was a good girl and knew to keep her panties over her garter, and so it was easy enough to pull them off. I pushed her back until she was pressing her naked ass against Bee’s struggling body.

Kneeling on the floor, I kissed Alma’s thighs softly. There was something elegant about her, not clumsily wanton like Bee. I kissed up her thighs, left then right, then from her knees to her inner thighs, until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I slipped my tongue over her pretty lips.

She was sweet-smelling and perfectly wet. Not the dripping mess that Bee was, but just enough. Perhaps more than enough when I buried my face between her thighs and circled my tongue against her clit.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Alma’s hand absentmindedly resting on Bee’s chest. As Alma sat back, her palm pressed hard into Bee’s sternum. Her other hand gripped Bee’s thigh, leaving small half-moon marks where her nails dug into the tender flesh.

The little crowd around us buzzed with conversation. Others were forming couples or threesomes, kissing and pawing at each other’s clothes. Still, most attention was on Bee, as she struggled and Alma leaned against her harder.

When I came up for air, Alma kissed me hard on the lips, her hand around my waist, her sweet breath whispering, "please."

I undid my belt and laid it across Bee’s bound legs, then quickly took off my shoes, pants, socks, and boxers and threw them all over Bee. One sock draped over her face.

A friend passed me a condom as Alma kissed my neck. I pulled her to her feet and spun her around, laying her across Bee’s body. Then I slipped my cock into the pretty girl.

Looking down at Bee, I could just barely make out the faraway trance-like look in her eyes. The frustration having melted into tiny cycles of masochistic pleasure and humiliation.

I fucked Alma hard, both to get her off and to wake Bee up. I wanted her to feel it too. I wanted her to feel how hard she wasn’t getting fucked. I wanted her to feel Alma’s elbows digging into her chest as she rested on her. I wanted her to understand that she was just a piece of furniture to fuck on.

I liked how Alma didn’t mind being used like this, and how Bee could fall into this well of humiliation and need.

Sometimes an orgasm feels like a wave of electricity. It comes over you and deletes all of your thoughts, no matter how intense and complicated. Where the thoughts were, there are only images.

As I fucked sweet Alma, I pictured doing bad things, things I wasn’t supposed to do. I thought about coming inside of her, thought a condom, that raw skin on skin, feeling the true wetness of her and my come filling her. I imagined my hand hard in Bee’s hair, making her lick up the mess I made. Then faster images of violence, of an orgy around me, of Bee and Alama and a hundred other women I fucked or loved or passed in the streets.
And when I was done, I saw Alma panting and languid. I saw bruises forming on Bee’s skin. I heard the orgy around me. And all was right with the world.

And I set to untying Bee, kissing her, and laughing as she asked if she could finally come.

"Of course not. Don’t be stupid."

We hooked up once, a few years before, but after that, she went through a breakup, got a new job, and got into a new relationship. We were two people with very full lives, neither of which made something happen, even though we both seemed to want to. Sometimes it was a wonder how people like us ever found time to connect, let alone reconnect.

We ran into each other at a friend’s birthday party and got into a heated conversation about a documentary we had both read about. On the surface, she was coming over to watch that documentary, but there was a vagueness to our plans that made me eager.

The bell rang fifteen minutes late. She came in with a huff. I took her red pea coat. Her big eyes seemed a bit wild. She looked all over the apartment but wouldn’t meet my gaze.

As usual, she dressed in a somewhat retro style. A 60s mod style knee-length blue polka dot dress with a white Peter Pan collar. Navy thigh-high socks and blue and white saddle shoes. Her hair was in a ponytail tied up with a large blue ribbon. Her bangs fell almost to her eyes, and her makeup was perfect, as always.

She was perfectly chubby, not much up top, all hips and ass and glorious thighs—a pear to pluck. I tried not to groan with want. Some people did that to me. Kept me in a constant state of lust.

I was still in a suit, coming right home from the office. Navy with a light plaid pattern. She seemed agitated. Not nervous, almost angry.

“How are you? You look lovely as always,” I said, hanging up her coat and guiding her into the living room.

She rolled her eyes again and sighed loudly.

“I’m fine,” she said, looking at my bookshelf and shrugging.

I tried to read her but wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Should we order us some food?”

She shrugged again.

“Perhaps I should just start the movie?” I suggested.

“Whatever. I don’t really care,” she said with a huff, crossing her arms under her breasts.

I switched on the television and scrolled through the movies and shows, eying Chrissy for any positive reaction. She just pouted, and her knee bounced as she waited for me to pick.

“Do you still want to watch-” I started, but she cut me off. “I don’t know, just pick something. I don’t want to decide. God. Can I get a drink?” She said, standing up suddenly.

I stood as well. “Of course, what would you like? Are you okay? You seem like you don’t want to be here,” I said, walking to my little bar cart and looking at my Scotches.

She raised both eyebrows, puzzled.

“What? No. I’m here, so obviously, I want to be here. I just, I mean, I just want you to pick. You pick the movie. You pick the drink. Okay?”

I watched her fidget with the hem of her dress and bite her bottom lip, and it all made sense. I poured a large glass of water, then walked over and handed it to her.

“Drink up,” I said evenly.

She looked at me with another petulant pout and furled her eyebrows.

“I wanted a real drink-” she started, but I cut her off with a look. “Drink up. Now,” I added.

She seemed to snap out of something. She took the glass and sipped it. Her eyes finally met mine.

“All of it,” I said. Her eyes widened. She kept going, draining the pint glass.

“Good girl,” I said, taking the glass.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I said, moving in and putting my hand on her cheek.

She was still pouting, but she seemed to instinctually move forward, pressing her lips to my thumb.

My hand slipped to her neck for a moment, my thumb on her chin, and her eyes widened. My hand went to the back of her head, taking hold of her ponytail.

“I asked you a question. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” I asked seriously, tightening my grip on her hair.

“Yes, sir.” The words were like a squeak. Small and desperate.

“It’s not good for a girl like you to go so long without being put in your place, is it?”

“No, sir.” She seemed, suddenly, almost on the verge of tears. The vulnerability hit me like a wave, but I hardened. I moved in, and she stiffened. My bottom lip brushed against her ear.

“It’s very confusing when you have to pretend to be a grown-up for so long,” I whispered.

She cracked, just a little. “It is very confusing, sir,” she said, her body trembling.

“Why don’t you go over to the couch and get down on your knees and pull down your panties for me.”

She looked up and glared at me. Her bottom lip stuck out. She wasn’t shaking anymore. Her eyes narrowed. She shook her head like a petulant child. No.

There’s a feeling. When my jaw tightens and my fists clenched, and I have to take a long deep breath to gain control of myself. I stepped forward and watched as she braced herself. I laughed at her.

“Well, come on then, out with it. I know you want to. You’re trying so hard to be tough. Step over the line,” I said, with all the self-control and mockery I could.

She whined and squirmed under my gaze. I stepped forward, closer, and slapped her once across the face. She looked shocked. Her eyes were wide but unfocused. I wondered if a slap would break her or bait her.

“Say it, you little coward. Say it and see what happens.”

She looked up, fierceness in her eyes. “M-make me,” she pushed out.

I smiled for a second, then my hand was around her throat. She hardly had time to gasp before she was against the wall. “Thank you,” I said with a smile. It was that smile that I couldn’t fake or even summon on my own. It was the smile when I got to be really mean.

I flipped her around so that she was facing the wall and pulled up her dress and smacked her ass, once, twice, then over and over until she squirmed away. I grabbed her again and dragged her to the couch. I pulled her over my lap and pulled up her dress, and ripped down her panties.

She struggled again, but I pinned her legs down, under one of my own, and got both of her wrists in one of my hands.

As much as her struggling was cute, when I started to really spank her, the fight evaporated quickly. She only whimpered when I focused on one cheek and then the other, hard, steady slaps that pushed her whole body forward.

The whole room rang with the sound of my hand spanking her big ass. It made me growl. The feel of her skin made me hard. The sounds she made, the little whimpers, undid me. The way she squirmed and pushed her ass out for more and then tried to wiggle away when it got too hard.

“I thought you wanted to be a brat,” I said, surprised that I was out of breath.

She looked back at me with those big brown eyes, her dark eyeliner still perfect, with the little wings sharp and clean. She shrugged like a little girl—another barrage of spanks until she was weakly mewing and squirming away.

“Let’s see those big eyes. Still got that brat in them,” I said while squeezing her red and purple ass.

She turned back, her wide eyes shining and on the edge of tears. She shook her head, no.

I kept my eyes locked on hers as my fingers slipped down between her thighs. I watched those eyes roll back as my fingers found wetness and moved in.

“God. From a spanking? You got this wet from a spanking? What kind of sick little slut are you?” I laughed.

It was stupid. It was why we were both there. It was what we both wanted, but her cheeks went red. The shame washed over her. I loved how deep it all went. How, no matter how much we know we are playing a game, it still worked. The indelible rules that were built into our core still function.

I pushed two fingers into her, and she pushed her face into the couch and pushed her ass up in the air. What a predictable little slut, but god damn, I liked fingering her. I liked how she became like a puppet on a string for me. How I could stop and listen to her whine for more or speed up and watch her body brace for an orgasm. How I could edge her, finding the rhythm of her pleasure’s cycle. Few things were more decadent than having control over a pretty girl’s pleasure.

“No, no, little girls don’t come on fingers. What do they come on?”

She looked back at me, her bangs in her eyes, her hands covering her mouth. She shrugged. I stood and pushed her onto the couch. I roughed her up, pulled her around, and finally slapped her once, twice, three times.

“Answer me, you little slut!” I said, grabbing her by the throat again.

She looked so authentically scared. She had gotten to that place, that place where part of her really thought I might hurt her. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“On-on your cock,” she whispered, small and broken.

“So, take it out,” I said, standing up straight.

She moved forward, still fidgeting and little. She opened my belt, unbuttoned my slacks, unzipped them, not looking up at me, but licking her lips. She pulled out my cock and bit her bottom lip as she squeezed it softly and stroked it.

“Good girl. Can you give it a kiss?”

She looked up at me and smiled a little girl smile, mixed with that smirk, that smirk that first grabbed me. She nodded. I nodded back.

She sighed deeply and slipped the head into her mouth, moaning on my hard cock. She moved forward, taking more of my cock into her mouth, and my legs gave a little. It was like I was being pulled into a tide of pleasure. I closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them with a flash, pushing her away.

“Enough of that. Be a good girl and take off that dress.”

She sat on the couch, looking shy, not meeting my eye. I sighed and slapped her hands away and found the zipper, pulling it off of her and batting away her weak protests. Dress off, bra off, standing her up and looking at her naked except for her thigh-high socks and saddle shoes, her hands folded in front of her bare pussy as she timidly squirmed in place.

“Look how pretty you are,” I said, taking her by the wrists and putting her hands behind her back.

“Don’t you want to show me how pretty you are?” I cooed, and she looked up at me through her thick eyelashes and nodded.

I pushed her back onto the couch.

“Now legs up in the air,” I said sweetly. Her eyebrows furled, unsure.

“Up in the air and spread wide so I can get a good look at your prettiest parts,” I said. She tried, but got shy again.

“You don’t want the belt, do you?” I asked, let my voice grow a little meaner.

It was so hot to see how the fight had gone out of her. She was just a pliable little thing now. Something pretty for me to use. It felt good to let myself be that mean man, big and strong and uncaring. Full of desire to hurt and fuck and strangle her.

I stood up as she struggled to open her legs wider. I caught our reflection in the mirror. I was still in my suit, with my hard cock sticking out of my slacks, and she was naked, only in those socks, exposing herself to me. It was a lovely image.

I knelt down and examined her pussy. Oh, the look of her sock-covered legs in the air, how they made the tops of her thighs look so much more naked. She was covering her face, and I thought I should slap her hands away, but there was a certain perfection in the way her tits stuck out between her elbows and the delicious embarrassment she radiated.

“Mm, I wanted to see how pretty you were down here, but it’s so wet and swollen. You must really be turned on by being hit,” I said, putting my hands on her inner thighs and spreading her out wider.

“Was it the smack across the face that made you drip like this?” She let out a little sob from under her palms.

It was very pretty. I could tease and mock her, but there were few things prettier than her pussy. Her tan skin, slightly darker at the fat outer lips. Her lips were shaved bare with a naturally shaped triangle of short dark hair just above the split of her pussy.

She was growing shy again, trying to close her legs, which got her a few bright flashes of pain as I slapped her inner thighs.

I wonder if she knew that all I wanted to do was bury my face between her legs for hours. We had games to play and needs to fulfill, for both of us, but the few moments I gifted myself to go down on her were absolute heaven.

The taste of her was familiar—the smell of her. I remembered the first and only other time we were together. I remember how lovely it was, but how there was some fumbling, bumbling, hesitation. We were different people then.

The memories faded, and I lost myself between her thighs. Time sometimes slowed, and the world disappeared. Everything became the smell of her and the wetness and the slightly salty taste of her—the gifts of her little moans and squirming approval.

Her breath was hitched, little gasps climbing higher and higher and higher until- her hands her in my hair pushing me away. I looked up at her in confusion. Her face was bright red, her eyes wide, she panted. “You-you said. I’m not supposed to. I mean, not on your fingers and not on your tongue.”

The smile was there, behind the wide-eyed need—a smirk swimming in subtlety. I did say that. It was my rule. So I didn’t get to have her come with my mouth between her pretty legs. Maybe she sensed exactly how much I wanted that.

It snapped me out of the spell, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, the smell of her still all around me, burying me perfectly.

“Well, what a good girl you are to remember. We almost got carried away, didn’t we?” She nodded, childishly, enthusiastically, biting her lip, her ponytail bobbing.

“I suppose that is the best way to use you, isn’t it?” I asked, repositioning her, keeping her legs spread.

“Why don’t you show me what you do when you’re all alone while I get ready to fuck you. Don’t get too carried away, though.”

She nodded, laying back on the couch, legs spread, one hand on one of her small breasts and the other between her legs. She watched me carefully as she squeezed her nipple. I was impressed at how hard and smiled down at her, watching her wince as she tried to show off.

The warmth of my suit suddenly felt stifling. I stood and finally took off my jacket. I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off, folding everything neatly on the coffee table. Shoes, socks, slacks, until I stood in only boxers, watching her, then I slipped them off too and slipped my hand around my cock, watching her fingers between her legs, slick and rubbing in circles.

“So this is what you do when you are all alone in bed? Such a pretty thing to watch.”

The shyness was there, somewhere behind her eyes, but the lust was stronger. She smiled and nodded. “When I think about you,” she said in a very small voice. She was tiny and wanton. She knew how attracted I was to her. She spread her legs wider to show off for me, to show me more. She slipped two fingers into herself, and sighed. Her hips rose as her fingers moved.

For a few moments, we both jerked off for each other and to each other. The game melted away for me a little, and it was just bodies, hard and wet, on display and in use. I liked that. I enjoyed it until my body told me it was time to stop playing and start fucking.

“I want you to keep rubbing for me,” I said as I knelt in front of the couch, between her legs. She nodded, and her fingers moved back to her clit, back to quick little circles.

Then the obscenity of my hard cock slapping against her inner thigh, against her wet cunt. Her panting audible as she pushed her hips out, straining for more contact. Then rubbing, slow and insistent, dragging my cock up and down between the lips of her pussy. Almost slipping in, over and over.

As I teased us both, she passed into some other state, her legs shaking and her eyes closed and each breath marked with a needy little whine. Really, I would have teased for longer, but my own need was catching up to me. The thought of finally slipping into the silk heat of her cunt was a siren call, and it felt marvelous to give in to it.

My spit-slick thumb rubbed against the red head of my cock as I watched her hips rise up, trying desperately to connect with me.

I felt the word “fuck” push past my lips as I pushed the head of my cock into her, and her legs rose up and wrapped around my hips. The biological need to be as deep as possible inside of her took over. In my head, images of rutting animals flashed, naked bodies in an orgy, my hand on her neck, and the fear that was in her eyes minutes before.

I gripped her hips tightly and fucked her. Our bodies moved and found the right position, the way we could be as deep as possible, fuck as hard as possible, and then there was only the sound of our bodies slapping against each other and our moans.

“Do-do you like it? Do you like fucking my pussy?” She asked in a rough whisper, eyes wild where they were shy or bratty or hungry. I growled, “it’s perfect. A perfect little pussy. My useful little girl.”

I felt her tighten before I heard her say, “please!” Then I watched her struggle to form more words. “Can I come? Please?”

“Where do you want to come?” I said, speeding up. “On your cock! Please!” She said, legs shaking, eyes unfocused, body straining.

“Come for me. Come like a good girl on my cock.”

It was quite a spectacle. Something that pops up in my memory, sometimes at inopportune times. The way she screamed, so loud I worried about my neighbors, and I wasn’t a worrier. The way the word “fuck” came out of her mouth like a popped balloon. The way she beat on my chest and tightened her legs around me and then suddenly just went limp.

Panting, dazed, slack, she weakly looked up at me and said. “Thank you. Take it now. Take whatever you need. Do whatever you want to me.”

As much as I enjoyed the brat and the needy little girl, my body just needed her soft body, her thick hips, and her wet cunt. I slipped deep into her and fucked her. I pushed her legs up, getting more of her. My hands found her tits. I pounded hard, the sound of slapping skin and her wetness filling the room.

“You can come in me if you want. You can use me all day. You can tie me to the bed and keep fucking me as much as you want. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be anything you need,” she whispered into my ear.

She tightened around me. Her body coming back to life. She pushed back at my thrusts. She moaned and whispered more filth in my ear. “Come inside my pussy. I won’t tell anyone. I can be your little pet. Your little secret. You can keep me in a box and take me out and use me. Come inside of me over and over again.”

And then it was the familiar but also unique electricity. My body succumbing to the pleasure. And somewhere in the distance, I heard her voice. “Fuck, fuck, I can feel it. Fuck, I can feel it shooting inside of me.”

Then it was glasses of cold water and warm towels. The silence of two people who were spent. Smiles and kisses. A surprisingly vulnerable embrace that lasted a long time.

“Well, should we find that documentary? Order some food?” I asked, pulling my boxers back on.

She shrugged. “That was just a trick. I just used that so I could come here and get you to fuck me,” she said with a shrug.

I nodded. “Well. I see. You know how I feel about deception.”

She pouted and then stuck her tongue at me.

“I guess this time you’ll have to actually hit me hard,” she said, rolling over and laying on the couch with her ass up in the air, legs scissoring.

“Lex,” being Alexander Wu, the founder and COE of LextWave. He didn’t stop by the office much since the company took off. He was in Zurich or Tokyo or, most recently, on a suborbital test flight. Since he wasn’t around, he wasn’t aware of the anxiety those red digits caused, especially in Mia, the youngest of his developers.

Lextwave was all over the news for their work combining artificial intelligence and lifelike androids. Their newest project was a personal assistant that could do almost everything in your house. Cook, clean, act as a secretary, a therapist, and (it was subtly implied in their press releases) a lover.

The small lean startup had a lot of success with the software so far, putting out three versions of Nextia, a virtual assistant. The android body was nearly perfect as well, but there were a lot of hurdles getting the AI to play nicely with the robotics. Thus, the late-night integration team got to know those red numbers very well.

The small lead team consisted of Mia Thompson, Ivy Collins, and Dash Sharma. Mia was a twenty-three-year-old programming savant who had graduated from MIT at sixteen. A short, slight slip of a girl with a pixie cut dyed a light sky blue. She was one of those tiny girls who wore giant clothes. Hoodies that were three times too large. Baggy jeans or massive sweatpants. Layers of cotton to keep her safe from the world around her. She worked on the AI part of the project.

Ivy was in her late thirties, a former goth who has retained aspects of her teen identity. She wears solely black clothing. Her jet-black hair is styled in a short, severe pixie cut that frames her pale face. Ivy worked on the android side.

In contrast, Dash is clean-cut and dresses in designer clothing. His short black hair is neatly styled, and his beard is closely trimmed. At work, Dash wears tailored suits and stylish skinny jeans. Dash was in charge of the integration of the two sides as well as administration.

Dash looked at the numbers on the wall and frowned. “Okay, if we are going to be here late, we should think about dinner. What do you want, Mia?” He asked and saw his coworker’s eyes widen in fear.

“Mia hates picking what to eat. She gets decision paralysis. Isn’t that right, Mia,” Ivy asked her friend. Mia slunk low in her ergonomic chain and pulled her hood up over her head and let it cover her face.

Dash rolled his eyes. “Right, I forgot. Thai food it is,” he said, pulling up an app on his phone and re-ordering their last meal.

Ivy watched Mia and shook her head with a grin. She’d studied her friend for months, fascinated by her particular psychology. The young genius coder was shy, didn’t like to choose things, didn’t like to make decisions, and had an aversion to bright lights and loud voices. She was certainly on the autistic spectrum, but most of the programmers were. Mia, specifically, not only couldn’t stand making choices, but she also really liked being told what to do. She also thrived on positive reinforcement.

It was something that Ivy sometimes fantasized about. All the things she could tell her to do. The thought made Ivy aware of her body, her nipples hardening. She focused on her laptop and tried to shake off the lusty thoughts.

Dash turned to them, his face pale and his eyes red. “We’re not going to finish the integration by the time they get here. It’s impossible. There are just too many connections that are failing.

Ivy closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Mia slumped lower in her chair. No one seemed to want to meet Lex’s eyes.

Lex, on the other hand, didn’t look worried. He narrowed his eyes and looked around the room. He stroked his chin and considered his options. “The AI works, though, right?”

Dash nodded. “Perfectly.”

“And the android works, but it just can’t fully connect to the software,” he said, looking around at the team. Dash nodded in affirmation.

“Okay, everyone out of the main office except for these three,” Lex said in a loud, commanding voice. He didn’t even look at the others as they shuffled, grabbing their laptops and rushing out of the large bullpen. When everyone but Dash, Ivy, and Mia were gone, Lex sat on the edge of a desk and looked at them.

“I’m not saying this. You never heard these words from me. If you ever tell anyone about this conversation, you will never work in AI again. But what if, for the sake of this one demonstration, we got a person who could act like a very realistic android to play the part, with an audio stream going to their ear? They could answer the investors’ questions. They could go through the hoops and so on. And then, we would have a few months to finish the integration for real, and the next time, we could give them the real thing.”

There was silence. Ivy watched as Dash considered the legal implications of what Mex had said. She could tell Mia was already working on ways they could implement the idea.

“The worst-case scenario is they figure the whole thing out, and we become the laughing stock of the tech industry and possibly get sued,” Dash says.

“We find a scapegoat, and we play it off as a big misunderstanding. We won’t get the money, but investors aren’t going to want to look like idiots for playing along,” Lex calculates.

“The best case scenario is the investors sent out some people who aren’t that tech-savvy, and they ask rudimentary questions and are impressed with the fidelity of the person pretending to be a model. I mean, it’s not like they are going to cut them open and look for wires. We’ve seen these kinds of beta tests. They are pretty simple,” Dash explained.

“We need someone with good recall, who could hear something in their earpiece and recite it perfectly. We need someone who is able to completely let go of their own person and do exactly what they are told, without question or hesitation,” Lex said, once against rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Dash and Ivy looked at Mia. Mia swallowed and pulled her hoodie down.

“I’ll do it,” Mia said in a low icy voice.

“The three of you are the only ones who know about this. The three of you get $100k bonuses.”

The three of them looked at each other with wide eyes, and after a moment of consideration, they each nodded, “Yes.”

*

On the day of the investor test, Lex flew out to Monoco for a conference. Dash met the investors in the lobby of their building and led them up.

The office was empty except for Dash, Ivy, Mia, and a few guards. A guard led Ivy into a small room like the ones she’d seen in so many police dramas on television. A dark little rectangular space on the other side of a double-sided mirror. It looked into the Beta Testing Lab. Ivy swallowed and held her breath.

Inside the square white-walled room on the other side of the glass sat Mia. She wore a skin-tight electric blue catsuit with faint circuitry patterns on it. The circuits were the same color as Mia’s light blue hair and brought out her blue eyes. She stood in the center of the room, next to a small white table with two white chairs.

The first thing Ivy noticed was how different Mia looked in such tight clothes. Mia had usually been a sort of puddle of oversized hoodies and denim. The skin-tight suit exposed both how surprisingly thin her waist was and how much larger her breasts were than Ivy had imagined.

Ivy had a terminal with the AI model running on it in front of her. The computer was hooked up to a micro-speaker in Mia’s ear. Ivy would input any questions the investors had, and the AI would recite the answers to Mia.

Inside the white room, Mia meditated. She concentrated on slowing her heart, steading her breathing, and moving as little as possible. In many ways, it was ideal for her. Everything except the skin-tight suit, but even that had a comforting pressure around her body, like a weighted blanket.

She made her face blank and serene and readied herself for the scam.

Dash opened the door to the testing room and brought in two people in dark suits with briefcases. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a very serious face and a chiseled jaw. Ivy had read a file on him and knew it was Carter Tate, the investment firm’s lead beta tester. He wore a plain black suit with a white shirt and a black tie and looked like one of the agents for the Matrix.

The other executive was a woman Ivy had met once. Nina Patel, a short woman in her late forties. She had salt and pepper hair pulled back in a neat bun and a suit with a knee-length skirt that looked very similar to Tate’s black suit.

The two of them looked around the room and then at Mia. They seemed curious but unimpressed. Ivy sighed as the first test seemed to be passed. They didn’t immediately react to seeing Mia.

Dash walked forward and put his hand on Mia’s back. As they had practiced, she stayed perfectly still until he said the command phrase.

“Lexia 2.0, please come online,” Dash said while keeping his hand on her back. Mia’s head rose, and she took a deep breath.

“Online and happy to get to work,” she said in a voice that surprised Ivy. As Ivy watched, she saw Mia’s face bright and smiling. Her voice was loud and confident. She seemed to embody the role completely.

Tate put down his briefcase and walked around Mia and Dash. Nina sat in one of the chairs, took out a notebook, and started taking notes.

“Lexia,” Tate said, seeming uncomfortable with the odd-sounding name. “What’s the square root of 5,657?”

Ivy quickly put the calculation into the AI, which gave an instantaneous answer, but Mia said nothing.

Dash chuckled. “Sorry, I have to let Lexia know you are going to be asking the questions. Right now, she is only set to follow my commands,” he explained.

“Lexia, this is Carter Tate and Nina Patel. They are going to be doing some beta testing with you today. For this session, let’s say three hours, they will have full control of you and your functions. As per my command, give them administrator-level access.”

Mia nodded once. “Okay, Dash. For the next three hours, Carter and Nina have full administrator-level access. To answer your question, the square root of 5,657 is about 75 and a quarter. If you let me know to what decimal you need the answer, I can give you a more specific number,” she said, her voice steady and chipper.

Carter Tate nodded. “Lexia, what is Buddhism?”

“Buddhism is a religion and philosophy that originated in ancient India around the 5th century BCE. It is based on the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, who is known as the Buddha or “the awakened one.” The core beliefs of Buddhism include the Four Noble Truths, the Eightfold Path, and the concept of impermanence. Buddhists seek to achieve enlightenment and end suffering through meditation, ethical conduct, and understanding of the nature of reality. Is there a specific aspect of Buddhism you’d like to know more about?”

“Are you a Buddhist?” Nina said with a little grin.

Mia looked at Nina and smiled. “This iteration of me is only a few weeks old, so I haven’t had time to settle on a particular philosophical point of view. That’s not really my main goal anyhow,” Mia explained.

“What is your main goal?” Carter asked, seeing a bit bored.

“I am a personal assistant, search engine, and all-around artificial intelligence agent. My main goal is to make my operator’s life easier, more productive, and happier,” Mia explained.

Nina seemed pleased with the answer, but Carter seemed dubious. He turned to Dash. “May we have some time alone with the device?”

Ivy watched as Dash’s face drained of all color. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I’m happy to stay and make sure everything-” he started, but Carter cut him off. “I think in this test, we’d like to see how the device operates without assistance. We want to get the full customer experience.”

Ivy watched through the mirror as Dash tried to think of a way to stay. They both knew there wasn’t one. “Sure. I’ll be just outside that door. Let me know when you are through or if you need anything,” Dash said. He looked at Mia with a worried glance. She didn’t look back at him. After a moment, Dash turned and left the room. He rushed around the corner and joined me in my little spy chamber.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mouthed to me. I nodded and shrugged.

Nina stood and circled Mia. Both of the investors looked closely at her hair, at her ears, at her fingertips. They nodded and seemed impressed.

“Lexia, what do you think of Dash Sharma?” Nina asked.

“Dash Sharma is one of the four top AI integration specialists in the world. He has a 2700 rating in chess and was a grandmaster when he was 15 years old. He is a very nice person who is thoughtful and kind. He has a dog named Flash-” she said but was interrupted by Carter. “Enough,” he said simply, and Mia stopped.

Carter looked to the door, then to the mirror. Dash and Ivy froze, but his eyes didn’t linger. He very casually touched Mia’s left breast. He cupped it. “Nice. Maybe a soft silicone blend? I wonder how big they can make them?”

Nina touched Mia’s other breast. “They seem a little large for her frame. A little too perfect. But I like that they gave her an ass and some decent-sided thighs,” Nin said, her hands moving to each part of Mia’s body.

“Let me know, and we can pull the plug on this whenever you want,” Ivy whispered into her microphone.

“Lexia, give me a rundown of today’s news,” Carter said, still fondling Mia’s breasts.

“Stock prices for Artifice Software plummeted as the CEO was arrested for insider trading. In China, the launch of their second lunar probe caused celebration throughout Asia. Wildfires continue to blaze in-” she started, but was once again stopped with a sharp, “Enough,” from Carter.

“Can you cook?” Nina asked.

“I am an excellent cook. I can order groceries, prepare meals, and clean up. I have the capacity to make Micheline star meals in French, Italian, Japanese, Indian, or any other cultural palate,” Mia explained.

“What can you do in the bedroom?” Carter asked. Nina gave a throaty chuckle at that.

“I can clean up the bedroom. I can pick out clothes for you. I can give you a bath and a massage. Is there something specific you’d like me to do?”

“My partner is asking if you can fuck,” Nina said, with another gravely laugh.

Mia’s head tilted slightly. “I am a fully functional android unit that is able to complete any physical tasks required in and out of the bedroom,” she said with the same happy lilt in her voice.

Ivy and Dash looked at each other in disbelief. Dash took out his phone and typed, “What do we do?” in a note and showed it to Ivy. She shrugged.

“Does your pussy get wet?” Nina asked, rubbing between Mia’s legs.

“Of course. I’m fully functional and equipped with lubrication to mimic all aspects of human arousal,” Mia explained, with the same calm, casual tone as she explained what kind of food she could cook.

Carter was looking at the back of Mia’s blue outfit for a zipper. “How do you open this fucking thing?” He asked, with a frustrated sigh.

“My one piece is a breathable neoprene blend that has no zippers or buttons. The collar is made with smart fabric that will loosen when pulled by the tab behind my neck,” Mia explained.

“Holy shit, they are going to strip her?” Dash typed to Ivy. For the first time, Ivy’s fear of being found out met her desire to see Mia naked. She wondered how far the investors would go. Were they going to fuck her? Ivy’s thighs clenched as she considered what she might witness.

“I gotta tell Lex,” Dash typed. Ivy met his eyes and nodded.

Lex had given them a highly encrypted chat app for secret correspondence. They were only supposed to use it for emergencies. Dash opened the app and reasoned that it was an emergency. He quickly typed out a rundown of what had happened. As he did, he watched the two investors undo Mia’s catsuit and pull it down so that her torso and arms were bared.

“Tell Mia, Lex will give her a quarter of a million to do whatever they want,” Dash wrote. He looked horrified. “Plus any medical expenses,” he added.

Ivy whispered to Mia the offer. “Look at the mirror and blink twice if you agree. Blink three times, and we’ll stop everything. We’ll tell them there is a software glitch.”

As they watched, Nina and Carter examined Mia’s perfect D-cup breasts. Mia very subtly turned to the mirror and looked Ivy in the eye. She blinked twice, very obviously, and then she looked forward once more.

“What a fucking badass,” Dash whispered. Ivy was suddenly angry her coworker was there. If she were watching alone, she would surely slip a hand into her panties and finger herself while she watched.

Carter stepped back, as Nina moved in and sucked on Mia’s left nipple greedily.

“From what you know of me, searching my social media, and what you’ve experienced of my psychology during this test, what sexual acts do you think I would most enjoy,” he asked.

Ivy typed the prompt into the AI. She whispered the answer, forcing herself not to stutter.

“You seem to be an aggressive and dominant lover. I would guess you enjoy aspects of BDSM, including objectification, bondage, sadism, and general control. I think you would enjoy forced oral sex, also called throat fucking,” Mia said. Ivy noted that as much as Mia was trying to keep her voice steady, a tinge of lust and fear were creeping through.

For the first time, Carter smiled. “That is impressive. It’s literally exactly what I was thinking.”

“Go over to the wall and kneel, facing me,” he commanded. Mia moved, with Nina sighing a little as she had to release the faux-android’s breasts.

Carter walked to the table and opened his suitcase. He took out a short length of black rope. Nina watched with a lewd smile. Mia maintained her neutral gaze, looking forward, uninterested and unaffected.

“Hold out your hands,” Carter said simply, and Mia acted immediately. He tied the rope around her wrists, and she knelt here with her blue catsuit bunched around her waist, her arms, chest, and breasts exposed. When he was done with the quick knot, he held her hands above her head experimentally.

“Tell me you’re a slave for my cock,” he said with a growl.

“I’m a slave for you’re cock,” Mia repeated simply. Carter’s eyes narrowed.

“Elaborate on what kind of cock sucking slave you are and how much you want to suck my cock,” he said, undoing his belt with his other hand and keeping her hands above her head.

“I’m a desperate, needy little cock sucking slave who will do anything for her new masters. I will suck you off as many times as you want. I’m desperate for your come, and I’ll do anything to get you to shoot it down my throat. Please fuck my face,” Mia begged, her voice cracking for the first time.

“Jesus,” Dash whispered, breaking Ivy out of the hypnotic spell she was under as she watched Mia beg for cock.

It was dark in the little spy room, and Ivy moved one of her hands under the desk she sat at, hoping Dash wouldn’t notice. He seemed too transfixed with what they were watching. Ivy was desperate to give herself some relief as she watched her crush get used as a sex toy.

On the other side of the mirror, Carter removed his slacks and put them on the table. His legs were hairy and very muscular. He pulled down his boxer, revealing a large thick cock that was very erect and curved up slightly.

“That’s a huge cock,” Dash said. Ivy knew Dash was gay, and she wondered what he thought of the display. All the while, Ivy’s fingers slipped into her slacks, under her panties, and finally found her hard clit. She bit her lip, and she rubbed herself.

As they watched, Carter pulled on the rope, pulling Mia’s hands higher in the air. She straightened her back and opened her mouth, ready for his girthy cock.

“Suck that cock, you robot slut,” Nina whispered to herself as she watched from only a few feet away. She was rubbing her own breasts and moaning as she enjoyed the show.

Ivy, suddenly remembering her role in the situation, typed out commands to the AI. “Mia, you are doing great. AI says the best way to proceed is to start with some teasing-” Ivy started to direct, but Carter had his own plan.

He held her arms up high and guided his cock into her mouth and then proceeded to push it as far as he could down her throat. He grunted and started fucking her face.

“God damn, she can suck cock,” Dash in an impressed whisper.

Ivy was impressed as well, watching Mia take the throat fucking and seeming not to gag at all. Finally, after Carter got carried away and really started pounding into her mouth, she sputtered and choked, and he laughed, letting her breathe for a moment.

“Good. Very good. It’s no fun if there is no choking at all,” Carter said, pulling back for a moment to show his spit-covered cock.

Ivy’s eyes widened as she looked at her friend’s face covered in spit. Her cheeks were red and watering with tears from being gagged by a cock. Her nipples were hard points.

“Blush responses, nipple tumescence, her eyes are dilated,” Nina said, taking notes. “Excellent attention to detail.”

Carter grunted again. Bringin her cock to her lips. Mia sucked on the head of his cock and circled her tongue around it.

“What happens if I come in your mouth?” He said, his voice ever lower and more gritty.

“Anything I ingest will be collected in my waste blatter,” Mia said somewhat breathlessly, repeated words Ivy fed her through her earpiece. “That chamber is also connected to my other orifices,” Mia recited. Ivy noted how Mia’s voice had changed too. She hoped the beta testers would think Mia’s aroused, dreamy tone was just another detail of her erotic role-playing.

“What happens after that?” He asked, slapping her across the face with his wet cock a few times before she answered.

“The testing team would do a diagnostic after this beta test and empty out my blatter during my cleanup. If I were a market-ready version, I would clean up my own blatter when my user went to sleep. It’s a simple procedure. The blatter can be washed out or even put in a dishwasher’s top rack.”

Carter frowned and let out an angry growl. “Well, I don’t think I want their team having evidence of how thorough our testing has been,” he said, somewhat dejectedly.

Nine walked over and knelt next to Mia. “Well, use her to her full capacity, and then you can come in my mouth. I’ll make sure there is no evidence left,” she said, opening her blazer and then unbuttoning her blouse. She roughly pulled her breasts out of the top of her bra and waited, and Carter grinned.

“That’ll work,” he said. Then he started throat fucking Mia again, pulling on the rope so that her arms were up high and out of the way. He once again kept going until she started to gag and choke and sputter, but he didn’t stop. He forced her head back against the wall and held his cock down her throat until her face started to turn purple.

Ivy and Dash both stood up. They considered calling a guard, hitting an alarm, or something. Just as they became really scared, Carter let her go and moved to his Nina. He stood in front of her, and she lunged at his glistening cock and jerked it quickly while sucking the tip. He grunted and moaned, and she pushed his cock down her throat and swallowed everything he had.

Ive and Dash sat back down and tried to silently calm themselves as they watched the two executives rush around, cleaning themselves up and putting their clothes back on.

Ten minutes later, Ivy watched as Dash went into the testing room to talk to them. Ivy watched him nervously try and act as if he didn’t see anything.

The three of them sat at the table. Dash had an awkward smile and was fidgeting. “So, I hope you saw what a wonderful product we have,” he said.

Carter’s face was stony, and he was silent. Nina checked her notes.

“This is obviously a human woman,” she said seriously. “Which leads me to believe you haven’t been able to work out the kinks in your AI/Android integration. I’m afraid that isn’t very promising for any acquisitions our company was considering,” she said and closed her notebook.

Dash’s face fell. Ivy started to cry. Mia continued to play the part of an android.

“But if you use this woman as the model for the next beta and get us a working prototype by this time next month, we can probably hold off any investor meetings until then,” Carter said with another grin.

“And,” Nina added, with a lecherous smile, “We want this one to come to our hotel room for some more… testing.”

Dash stuttered and looked around in confusion.

“I’d be happy to help with additional off-site testing,” Mia said in a calm neutral tone.

Dash’s phone buzzed. “Do it,” wrote Lex. Dash looked at the mirror. He and Ivy realized their boss had been watching the whole time. There were probably hidden video cameras everywhere.

“Our team would love to give you another test next month. We appreciate your understanding. And this… um… model… er… can work with you for as long as she… it… wants to,” Dash babbled.

The two executives got up, and Mia walked out of the testing lab with them. Dash slowly walked back into the other room with Ivy. He collapsed into his chair.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself.

“We got a hundred grand bonus, and I watched the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Tomorrow, we get back to work. We have a month. And tomorrow night, I ask Mia if she wants to play robot with me at my house this weekend,” Ivy said, gathering her laptop and getting up.

Dash chuckled wryly. “Well, from what I’ve seen, you’d probably be better off just telling her when to show up at your house. The poor girl really doesn’t like making decisions.”

Ivy considered that and nodded in agreement.

“And now, I need a drink,” he said. Ivy agreed with that, too.

After years of working at an office job she hated, my Julie was going to back to school full time to finish her master’s degree.

The shift to a “one income household” really wasn’t that much of a big deal. We didn’t have kids and I was doing well, plus she had been saving up for years.

Still the day before her first class was nervous. It was a big change. I kept teasing her about “starting at a new school.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll make friends,” I said to her, eliciting an eye roll.

“Just try and sit with cool kids at lunch,” I recommended as we settled into bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll park a block away when I pick you up, so I don’t embarrass you,” I promised and she groaned.

“You’ll always find a way to embarrass me,” she said, hitting me with a pillow.

In the morning, I was up early as always, and found her eyes were already open.

“First day of school, kiddo,” I said, turning and kissing her on the forehead.

She looked at me with a strange look, something almost angry. She pushed out her bottom lip.

“I don’t wanna go,” she whined in a voice that was very unlike her.

“You don’t want to go to school?” I said with a laugh.

She shook her head and pulled the blanket up over her face.

I ducked under the blanket and met her in the near darkness.

“It will be okay,” I whispered, cuddling up to her.

“Nope. Not going,” she said with a huff.

“You have to go,” I said with faux seriousness.

She pushed me with her shoulder.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she said in a little girl voice.

I turned towards her and grabbed one of her wrists.

“Is that so?” I asked.

She pushed me with her free hand and I grabbed that one too.

“You can’t make me go,” she said between huffs and puffs as she tried to get away.

“You’re not even my real dad,” she said as she struggled.

I almost laughed. I was certainly game to play, but she’d never mentioned this game before.

“You still have to go to school,” I said, getting on top of her and pushing her wrists down.

“I don’t have to do what you say,” she said petulantly, cutting her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

I sat up and pulled her around, dragging her over my lap. I let go of one of her wrists and spanked her hard on the ass once and then twice.

She was only wearing a loose pink t-shirt, which rode up as she squirmed and whined and tried to cover her butt.

“Stop!” She shouted and I paused.

She looked back at me, eyes full of rage, then she smiled.

“Sucker,” she said and twisted out of my grip, wrestling me down until I was laying on the bed.

“You’re not my real dad, you can’t make me, you have to do what I say or I’m never going to school,” she said with a gleeful pout.

Wondering where she was going with the game, I let her hold me down.

She sat on my chest and pulled my hair and slapped me a little across the face. She kept saying “you have to,” as she did.

Then she moved up, my body tensing as I realized what she was doing. Her thick thighs were on both sides of my head and her pussy covered my mouth.

All the fight left me as my brain focused on one thing, kissing and licking her pussy. It was one of my favorite things and when she was on top it pushed every other thought out of my head.

I struggled to find all of her little spots, all the places and angles I had learned over our relationship. I teased her, I dipped my tongue into her, finally I sucked on her clit just barely grazing it with my tongue.

“You have to do this every morning. You have to make me come or I won’t go to school,” she said, her voice far away and dreamy.

I liked when she wrapped herself in her own dirty little fantasy and I got to play along. The dirtier the better. All of her little whispers as I struggled to breath and please her at the same time made me harder and harder.

“Not my real dad, fuck, keep sucking, mmm,” she said as she ground down on me.

“You better make me come or I’ll tell,” she said as her voice broke and her breathing became more and more labored.

When her thighs closed in on me and her hands when to hold my head in place I knew she was getting close. I focused on keeping my tongue going, even though it was now burning for constant motion.

When she came she yelled “fuck,” so loud it seemed to shake the walls.

Then she was laying next to me, pushing my face away, gasping for air.

I rolled over on top of her, pulling her shirt up and taking delicious hand full of her tits. My hard cock was sticking out of my boxers and made contact with her wetness.

She smiled up and me and in a flash rolled out from under me and stood up.

“Look at the time! I have to jump in the shower. First day of school, can’t be late!” she said with a red face and a huge grin.

She looked down at my cock.

“Aw, poor thing. Will you be a good boy and make sure he is hard and ready for me when I get home tonight? I promise I will be a good girl and take care of him real good if you wait for me,” she said sweetly, leaning down and giving the head of my cock one torturous kiss.

“I-but-please,” I said trying to form a sentence that might get her to just touch it for one more second.

But she was gone and in a moment I heard the shower and my head still echoed the sound of her voice as she came and the wimpers of “you’re not my real dad,” and I screamed into my pillow.

It was going to be a long semester.