There is a fresh deposit of £55k showing. Fuck.
“Come on,” Josh says. “Tell me. What did they do to you?”
“Hmm, some things are better seen than told,” I say, then I inch forward on the sofa, wincing as my tits move. “Let’s get ready for bed and I’ll show you.”
Josh is such a superstar as he helps me up from the sofa. I need more assistance now the adrenaline has worn off, and he steps up like a pro. I raise my arms over my head when we reach the bathroom, and he takes my dress off. He lets out aholy shitwhen he sees the state of me.
It’s not my tits he’s staring at, though. He’s seen bound and bruised tits plenty of times before, since it’s kind of a staple. It’s the ladders of needle marks that he examines, then drops to his knees and eases my thighs open. My pussy must be an absolute fucking mess down there.
“You’re torn to shit,” he says. “What did they do? Pierce and corset string you?”
I love how familiar with the terminology he is. A testament to both his hardcorer status and his relationship with the reigning queen hardcorer, Tiffany.
“Yeah, and then they ass fisted me.”
“Ouch. Jesus Christ.”
I shrug. “I got eaten out through the ribbons as a reward, so I can’t really grumble.” My body thrums as the memory hits me, and another grin lights up my face as I think of the huge sum of cash in my bank account, too. The founders are welcome to corset string and fist me all they want to, so long as my body can take it.
My body wouldn’t be able to take it right now, though. It’s taken enough. Good job I’m officially out of action for a few weeks, because I’m going to need it.
“They cleaned you up well,” Josh says, being as tender as possible as he examines my pussy lips.
“Yeah, they did. Very thorough.”
“Let me get some cream on you, then we’ll get you to bed. Big spoon time.”
“Oh my God, our own bed. I can’t wait.”
It stings like an absolute motherfucker when I take a pre-bedtime piss. Josh is so skilled at aftercare, it’s insane, but it still hurts like a bitch as he tends to my pussy in the aftermath. I grit my teeth when he finishes another round of cleanup and covers me with soothing cream. He slathers it on thick.
“Ready for bed,” he says, once we’ve brushed our teeth.
Our suitcases are on the floor of the bedroom when I walk through the door, still packed. I have no interest whatsoever in rooting through mine. It’s a joy to be able to take one of my satin nightdresses straight from a drawer and slip it on over my head. Our bed looks like it was made in Heaven after living in Airbnbsfor months, and it feels like Heaven as Josh slides in behind me, curling his legs under mine as my big spoon.
It's obvious I went out like a light when my eyes open next morning. The bed is empty next to me, and the day is peeping bright around the sides of the floor length blinds.
My tits feel like battered punchbags as I get to my feet, and my wounds are prickly little bastards all over me, but I’m ok. Josh is in the kitchen when I pad my way through, and he holds up a bottle of milk with atada!
“I got some of your favourite biscuits in, baby, and some peaches and raspberries. A big pack of cheese puffs, and some Belgian buns. And all the ingredients for a fry-up.”
“You spoil me,” I say, wincing as I take a seat at the breakfast bar.
“I’m spoiling myself, too. I’ve been missing the hob. Can’t wait to get my own pans in action again.”
He’s in a vest top and loose joggers this morning, and when he turns to the coffee machine, I see the shimmer of sweat still glimmering on his forehead. I bet he’s been loving hitting his pull up bar. His kettlebells, too.
Josh’s fry-up breakfast is always worth a chef’s kiss, but this one tastes especially good. I can’t begin to put into words how happy I am to be back home, so I don’t even try, just grin at him as we munch our bacon and eggs.
Then it’s sofa time for me. I get comfy amongst the cushions, and sink into the leather, happy to begin my first rest day of many. Calm, peaceful. Happy. Until I switch on the TV to find thecoming soonannouncement loud and bold on the homepage.
Nighttime Whispers, season 7, coming October 31st!
The sight of Heath onscreen, dressed up as the count, jabs my ribs like a fucking spear. I watched these new episodes in Cannes with him and Josh, in our exclusive preview in Heath’svilla cinema. I miss him so bad, I could vomit, so I put my Belgian bun back on my plate and fumble through random TV options, scrolling like crazy.
Heath wouldn’t be able to submit a proposal to us now, even if he wanted to. We’re officially marked as unavailable on the app until our respite time is up. So there is no chance. No chance at all.
Josh flops onto the sofa next to me, watching the screen as I scroll like crazy. It only takes a few seconds before I feel his eyes on mine.
