Cold air rushes onto my sex. Dylan's sitting on his heels and tosses the blanket aside.
"That's not—"
"Dirty little stepsisters aren't the only ones who have fantasies." He slaps my ass.
Fuck! I like the way it stings. The way it made my pussy clench.
Then he hoists me over his shoulder, spanks me again, grabs my diary, and carries me to the kitchen.
"You want payment, Toby?"
"I want her to do her job." Toby's facing the sink, pretending not to watch us in the long mirror I keep against the backsplash.
It was the only way I found to bring sunlight into the dark space and make it feel a little bigger.
"You sure?" Dylan slaps my diary onto the counter. I hope he realizes I don't remember what I wrote.
Toby spins around, his eyes wide. We're back on track for what I wrote in the diary—minus the orgasm I was denied.
Dylan walks to Toby, who grabs my bare butt and asks, "Is this how you want to pay, Princess?"
I pound on Dylan's back and try to get down but Toby grabs my thighs and they tag team holding me in place. "I said I'd do the dishes."
"And I told her that naughty little sluts get disciplined."
Toby trails kisses over my butt, his breath warm against the cool air. He trails a finger up my thigh then slides it over my sex and pushes inside of me.
I gasp as he enters and quickly adds another finger. The tension from my denied orgasm roars back to life, dragging me close to the point of no return.
My wiggles are real. My moans are unstoppable. And just when I'm ready to let go, my fucking stepbrothers go for more improv, because the way I recall it going was that I should be having orgasm number two.
"That's not the way it's written." I have no shame in the way I plead.
Dylan's laugh rumbles through me as Toby's words warm my bottom. "She doesn't know when to stop running her mouth, does she?"
"Sassy little brats rarely do," Dylan says. "Want to give her an attitude adjustment?"
Toby moves in front of me, lowering himself so he's in my face. He stares into my eyes with a feral look I've only read about in books. "Would it do any good?"
Dylan answers before I can. "There's one way to find out."
My gawd, I need that orgasm. I try to squeeze my thighs together but it doesn't work.
Toby extends a hand to the counter and grabs a spatula. That's supposed to happen later in the scene. Guess we're bumping it up. I'm not complaining.
"Give this a try." Toby hands the spatula to Dylan, then strips.
I'm so distracted by the thick cock in front of my face that I'm not prepared for the wooden slap across my bottom.
I cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Two can play this game of improv.
"Are you ready to behave, Princess?" He tucks a finger under my chin to tilt my face upward.
Acting quickly, I wrap my fingers around his cock. "Princesses don't do dishes."
"Fuck. Me," Toby chokes out as I catch a bead of his pre-cum and stroke.
Dylan turns, using the mirror to see what's happening. Toby shifts slightly to keep my hand on his shaft.
