They moved together like they’d done it a hundred times, hips bumping, shoulders brushing, her cheek grazing his arm as she leaned down to get a lid. And even with her holes aching and stretched, even with the toys inside pulsing with each movement, there was something sweet threaded through it all. She was his. She was helping. She belonged here.
By the time they slid the meatloaf into the oven, her body was still hurting, but her chest felt soft and full.
She only had to obey. And in moments like this, obedience felt a lot like love.
When Boone came home, she was bent over the same table Silas had used her on earlier for him to remove the plug and egg. Boone’s never really rough or gentle, it’s a daily chore for him — remove the fucktoy’s devices, take them up, put them on the charger, then take his shower. The plug hurt coming out of her sore hole, and when he pried the egg out a moment later, her cunt gave a pitiful little clench like it missed the pressure.
And then she went back to mashing the potatoes.
Kenny walked in ten minutes later, pointed her upstairs without a word, and strapped her down for orgasm training. She managed to last a full eleven minutes before the inevitable tremble hit and the wand ignited her clit. Just once, thank fuck, but her body had been coiled so tight it still wrecked her. Somehow, she held the rest at bay, clenching every muscle andfighting every urge, even when he worked her over with fingers slick and skilled enough to tease gods into weeping.
When he finally unbuckled her, he said, “Good girl. Not perfect yet, but improvement is good.”
And damned if that didn’t settle somewhere warm in her chest. Somewhere proud.
Then he popped her on the ass and told her to go finish helping with dinner.
The meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy hit the spot. And she kept an eagle eye on everyone’s drinks.
Like her knees depended on it.
That night was a scene night with Silas, and she knew he wasn’t going to be kind.
She loved him for it. Loved him for the mind-space he put her in — frantic, low, humiliated, hurting.
But tonight, all the philosophizing in the world about returning to the mud didn’t stop her feet from wanting to drag when she climbed the steps, took her dress off, and waited on the red medallion while he showered in her bathroom.
And sheknewwhat the shower meant. It washerdamned rule about his asshole being clean, after all. Her pussy clenched and heat pooled down low. She hated the disgust curling in her gut, the shame burning her skin, and the traitorous pulse of arousal, ofanticipation, low and hot, demanding more.
But it was too late for that now. She wasn’t just crawling back to the mud — she was bathing in it, steeped in it. And the worst part? Shewantedit.
Silas could peel back every layer of pretense and leave her face-down in the dirt, and somehow, she felt more herself there than she ever had standing tall.
The water stopped.
Steam curled into the bedroom like a warning, and then he stepped out — cock standing proud, expression unreadable as hewalked to the bed and settled on his back, arms folded behind his head like he had all the time in the world.
He spread his legs. Bent them. “Between my legs and get your whore tongue on my cock.”
She walked to the tan medallion and waited, because he’d told her to get between his legs, but she needed permission to get on the bed.
He snapped out, “Permission granted,” and Willow climbed on, knelt between his thighs and bent forward. Her tongue darted out and licked a stripe up his cock. Another. She licked around his head. He hadn’t told her she could put it into her mouth, so she licked until he said, “Fuck. Maybe try my balls.”
She obeyed. Licked one, then the other. Tried to get creative. Different angles. Nothing made him react. She got more saliva on her tongue. Tried again. Went slower. Faster.
Nothing.
No praise. No sound. No reaction at all.
“Fucking pathetic,” he finally growled. “Lower. Cunts who suck at blow jobs can eat ass.”
She froze.
“You’re not deaf, are you? Lower, whore.”
Her stomach twisted. Her hands shook. But her body moved. He owned her, and that meant her wants no longer mattered. Her dignity no longer existed.
She moved down, hesitating. He hadn’t told her to touch him, and his asshole wasn’t where she could get to it.
