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After a while in Hell, a lot of things stopped being scary.
Or, some things got even scarier. It kinda depended—but Charlie, having been down here for two thousand plus, a lot of things didn’t faze her, and when it came to Halloween? Nothing really did.
Ghosts, zombies, vampires, whatever monster on TV was separated from her by a screen. She loved the imagery, the aesthetic—fog, and full moons, and black cats. Cobwebs, creaky gates, candlelight. She liked haunted houses, and clowns, and horror movies, and junk food, and she loved a good reason to celebrate.
”I still think this is fuckin’ stupid,” Husk said, over by the bar. Charlie had been trying not to go overboard with the decorating in her excitement, but she had found some glassware at the store that was so cool she had to buy it—a punch bowl shaped like a witch’s cauldron, with little cups shaped like pumpkins, all glassy and orange. Granted, the Vool-Aid in it was a bright purple, which didn’t really fit with the aesthetic, but Charlie still loved it, and for some reason, the residents of the hotel were really digging Hell’s take on Kool-Aid.
Charlie straightened out her hair. These days, she wasn’t wearing a whole lot of dresses, so putting one on was kinda exciting, even if it was just for a costume. She had picked it all out very far in advance too—her and Vaggie had planned it for awhile. The skirt was pretty modest, a little flowy, but still cute, with a high, Henley-type collar she had tightened a black ribbon around in a bow. And then the white stockings, and the red garter belt to keep them up, and the black pair of scarpins she had on, giving her a good extra three inches of height. Most obvious, though, was the red cloak she had on over her shoulders. She had the hood and everything—she loved it.
”How can you not like Halloween?” She asked. “It’s a chance to celebrate! We get to have fun! We’re just eating candy and watching movies—what can you have against that?”
Husk shook his head and reached for the Vodka. “A chance to celebrate is a chance to drink, and that’s it, kid.”
She stopped him before he poured the bottle into the punch. “Just pour some in your cup—I want Vaggie to be able to drink some too.”
”Can’t even drink on special occasions?” Husk asked.
”She’s sober,” Charlie said, smoothing out her skirt. “Sober sober.”
Husk blinked and set the bottle down—it occurred to Charlie that that wasn’t common knowledge in the hotel, and it wasn’t really his fault for not knowing. Sobriety wasn’t common in Hell… not even in the hotel. “Thank you, Husk.”
Angel entered the room, scrolling through Voxtagram while he combed his fingers through his hair and straightened out his own costume. “If this doesn’t do it,” he declared. “I got nothin’. Nothing.”
One of the bunny ears on top of Angel’s head flopped over, as if to point down at his attire—the fishnets, and the heels, the bubblegum-pink teddy he was wearing, pushing up his fur like it was actual breasts, and cupping him so tight between his thighs she could see the bulge…
“Do…” Charlie cleared her throat. It was Halloween, and costumes were normal. Costumes were also not consent, and Angel was a patron/patient who deserved her respect. This was not an excuse to stare. “Do what?” She asked.
Angel jerked a thumb to the still-sour bartender. “Finally get me into Husk’s bed.” He slid a hand down his slim waist, down to his hip. “I mean, c’mon, what can seduce anybody more than a fuckin’ playboy bunny?”
He sat down on the stool and leaned closer, batting his eyelashes at Husk. “Any chance ya wanna get me a cup o’ that punch, Husky?” He purred. He leaned even closer, pushing his bust up against the counter, lowering his lashes—Charlie’s mouth felt dry…
”Get it yourself,” Husk groused. “I got the day off.”
Angel stuck out his bottom lip in a pout—it was painted the same arousing shade as his clothes. “Ya made Al a drink!” He exclaimed, and pointed at Alastor, working on an old-fashioned nearby, grin cutting into his cheekbones. “Ya can make cocktails, but ya can’t grab your favorite person in this whole hotel a cup of punch?”
Husk jerked a thumb to him, eyes narrowed and focused on him. “Al’s my fuckin’ boss, and I don’t trust him to not ruin the whole fucking bar.”
Angel looked a bit closer at him, a grin slowly coming across his face. “So, what I’m hearing is I am your favorite person in this whole hotel?” Husk stammered something and bristled. “I mean, we all know Niffty’s the hottest broad in this place, and I don’t think a set of bunny ears are gonna let me steal the title from her—but being your favorite…” Husk groaned and poured more Vodka into his drink. “You’re a tough nut to crack, Husky—gotta be straight, right? I mean, I know it’s not me.” He jerked a thumb to Charlie. “If I can get Charlie’s attention away from her girl, it can’t be me.
Vaggie’s going to come out here any minute! Charlie reminded herself, anything to pull her mind away from this. My lovely, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend who I love more than anybody else! She really needed to stare at her girlfriend for awhile. All the same, she smiled at Angel as politely as she could. “Your costume looks great, Angel,” she settled on. “I’m glad you’re in the spirit.”
”Aww.” He grinned, suddenly much less sultry, and more cocky, the usual look Angel had. “Thanks, babe—you make a real cute li’l Red Ridin’ Hood, too.” He reached over to boop her nose. “Better be careful sayin’ that ‘round Vaggie, though—wouldn’t want her gettin’ any ideas.” He licked his teeth, teasingly and reached for her arm, squeezing around her bicep. “She pro’lly woulda wanted to hear ya were into bunnies before she already picked out her costume.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she giggled nervously before moving his still gloved hand off of her. “I’m glad you took the day off to celebrate with the rest of us,” she said. “Even if it’s more laidback than your usual parties.”
He licked his teeth again. “I’ll bet,” he whispered.
As if she somehow knew that Angel was doing something that would piss her off, Vaggie entered the lobby, heels clicking against the stairs as she descended—and the minute Charlie saw her, she forgot entirely about her brief, strange attraction to Angel.
She had her hair down, like usual, but instead of her usual bow, she was wearing a headband with gray triangular ears attached. Her dress was it’s usual length, but a little less tight, probably meant to be fitted to somebody with a little more bust—but the seams, the hemline, the neckline were covered in grey and black fur. Charlie’s favorite part, though, was the tail she had insisted on her wearing, attached with a short chain to a little loop on the costume right above her ass.
It wasn’t sexy. But Vaggie, with her long hair, and her thin, lithe limbs, and her rare smiles—she was the most beautiful woman Charlie had ever seen, and with the ears on her head, and the light scowl on her face, and her arms crossed over her chest…
She was adorable.
Charlie had to bring her mouth over her mouth to muffle her squeal. “Vaggie, you’re so cute!”
”I feel stupid,” she complained, rubbing her arms.
”Don’t!” Charlie chirped, grabbing her arm and tugging her closer.
Angel immediately started laughing. “Nobody told ya to wear a costume?” He asked. “Vaggie, we all know you’re a bitch.”
“¡Cállate!” Vaggie snapped.
Angel had turned around in his stool to lean his arms back against the counter and grin, victoriously. Charlie wondered how soon it would take for their next fight.
Niffty came into the lobby, holding Fat Nuggets in her arm—she’d been wearing her costume since this morning, a giant gash in front of her neck. When Charlie had seen her entering the kitchen this morning, with Alastor hot on her heels, Vaggie had nearly had a fucking heart attack—but, they’d been assured, it was makeup, perfectly fake, and Niffty had done it herself. “I don’t know why I listened to you, Miss Charlie,” she said, putting Fat Nuggets back down. He was dressed as a cheeseburger—Charlie didn’t want to ask questions. “When you said I should clean the kitchen last night, like I wanted to, instead of doing it today when I was supposed to have it off, I thought that made sense, but the kitchen needs to be cleaned again, and I can’t, ‘cause it’s my day off!”
Charlie frowned and looked towards the door to the kitchen. “What’s wrong with the kitchen?”
”It needs to be cleaned!” Niffty exclaimed, horrified.
”Does it?”
Niffty paused. “…I need to clean it!” She exclaimed.
”You can clean it tomorrow,” Charlie said. “I’ll help you, too—it’ll be fine for tonight, Niffty.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You’re bad at cleaning, though,” she mumbled, and seemed to think Charlie couldn’t hear her. She sighed and set Fat Nuggets down before settling her hands on her hips and looking into Vaggie’s direction, shocked. “Are…” She stopped for a moment, raising a hand to her mouth. “Are you coming out as a furry, Vaggie?”
Angel laughed, stunned. “I don’t think you know what that means, Niffty,” Vaggie said, as gently as she probably could.
Niffty rolled her eye so hard, Charlie thought she must’ve gotten a headache. “Of course I know what a furry is—and it doesn’t always mean you wanna have sex with animals, sometimes they just wanna dress up as animals, and that’s okay too. When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be a giraffe—it didn’t work out for me well, which is too bad, because being taller would be really nice.”
Angel grabbed a bowl of candy on the counter and pulled out a lollipop, popping it into his mouth, probably so he could try to seduce Husk with it. “But then ya couldn’t climb into the cupboards ya need to clean,” he said.
Niffty considered this for a moment and nodded her head. “Some dreams are only meant to stay dreams.”
Charlie clapped her hands and lead the way towards the TV. “Come on, we’re watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Vaggie rolled her eye, but she was smiling softly, in that way she usually did when her happiness was small and subtle, but no less genuine and Charlie fell in love all over again. “You and your musicals, hon.”
Angel groaned. “It’s Halloween and we still gotta sit through musicals?” He asked. “Why can’t we watch somethin’ cool?”
”No one wants to watch your definition of ‘cool,’” Vaggie said. “You watch porn.”
”First of all,” Angel said, popping his candy out of his mouth, which was a sign he was serious. “I don’t watch porn, you fuckin’ prude—I’m in porn, and I’m fuckin’ amazin’, it’s just that most people in this hotel either have no interest in watchin’ porn, or watchin’ me.” He gestured to the guys on either side. There was a bet going among the rest of the staff that Niffty was into some fucked up shit, but she didn’t really talk about it. If she watched porn, none of them knew. “Second of all—I wouldn’t make ya guys watch porn on Halloween! What kind of a creep do ya take me for? I meant, like, Jennifer’s Body or somethin’, just not a musical. Jeez.”
”Musicals are good!” Charlie said. “The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a masterpiece.”
”No, it’s not,” Husk said. Charlie frowned at him, and he didn’t take it back. “No, no—Rocky Horror is a fuckin’ disaster with a plot that makes no sense, jokes that weren’t even all that funny back in the day and aged like fuckin’ milk, and the music is awful, and it just attached itself to pop culture, and now everybody thinks it’s good.”
“No,” Charlie insisted. “It’s a masterpiece.”
”It’s not that bad,” Vaggie said, weakly. Charlie made her watch it every Halloween, so suffice to say it had grown on her, at least slightly.
”It’s pretty bad,” Angel said. Desperately, Charlie turned to Alastor, who had to love musical numbers at least as much as her.
”…It’s an acquired taste,” he responded.
”Hon, he’s not the one to talk about Halloween movies with,” Vaggie told her. “He doesn’t know how to work the DVD player. He doesn’t show up on camera. He didn’t even get a costume.”
Alastor’s grin sharpened and tightened on his lips. “I am in a costume, my dear.” He gestured grandly to his outfit. “I’m going as a serial killer.” He chuckled—Vaggie narrowed her eye. “They look—“
”—just like the rest of us, yeah,” Vaggie said. “You’re the most unoriginal bastard I’ve ever met, that’s not a costume, that’s just what assholes say when they aren’t wearing a costume, and everybody’s heard that joke. Plus, you are a serial killer. And you’re not dressed like just anyone, you’re dressed like a…” She gestured to him with both her arms, and found nothing to accurately describe his attire. In the modern era, people didn’t usually wear scarlet waistcoats, monocles, and oxfords. “If anybody was on the lookout for a serial killer and they saw you, they’d run in the other direction.”
Before Alastor could come up with a response, Angel spoke up in his defense, “If Al’s not wearing a costume, then Vaggie ain’t either. She’s always a bitch.”
Vaggie snarled, and Angel sat back on his stool, looking pretty proud of his comeback. “Halloween ain’t for everyone, toots. And we all know Al’s fuckin’ weird:” He gestured to him, in all his weirdness. He seemed to radiate it into the hotel lobby. Angel started counting off all the weird things about him on his fingers, “he eats his meat raw, he eats people—“
”Not people,” Alastor corrected. “Demons.”
Angel continued, “alright, he eats demons raw. He doesn’t swear. He’s ace as fuck—“
Charlie cut him off, as stern as she was gentle, “There is nothing weird about asexuality, Angel. It’s perfectly normal.”
”There’s nothin’ wrong with it,” Angel insisted. “But it ain’t normal. I mean…” He tugged up his top and fluffed up his fur. “How could it be normal to not want this?”
Alastor’s smile turned dry. “I refuse to believe anyone could want that.”
”Everybody wants a piece o’ me,” Angel said. “Even a lotta the ace people—the fact that Al doesn’t, at least, is weird, that’s like… more ace than most ace people.”
”Angel,” Charlie scolded. “It’s rude to imply that Al’s weird for being ace—and it’s really rude to imply he’s ace when he’s never said it, he’ll come out whenever he wants to.”
”Asexual people are normal,” Vaggie said. “Alastor is not.”
Niffty frowned, not quite grasping the concept of weirdness or Asexuality. “Am I the only one who hasn’t watched this movie?” She asked.
“You watched it,” Husk told her. “Remember, you called Janet a stupid bitch for cheating on her fiancé with the transvestite.”
Niffty furrowed her brow. “I never said that.”
”You did,” Husk said.
”Since when does Niffty swear?” Vaggie asked.
”She was high on cocaine, she gets a little… weird on cocaine.”
Angel looked dumbfounded. “Since when does Niffty do cocaine?”
”I’m from the fifties,” she chirped. “Everybody did cocaine, and we all smoked, and I died at twenty-two, so none of it caught up with me!”
Charlie straightened out her skirt. “I’m starting the movie with or without you guys—you don’t wanna miss the opening number.”
Husk grumbled something about how he did want to miss the opening number, but grabbed a bottle and followed everybody towards the TV.
Vaggie settled close enough to Charlie to be on her lap, the closeness almost explicit. Her hair brushed over her cheek and Charlie leaned into it. “I can’t get over how cute you look like this.”
Charlie loved candles.
The glow set the mood. The room smelled like pumpkins. It was amazing—but she also found that just the act of lighting them set the mood, and Vaggie helping her set their mood.
It was slow. Vaggie’s assistance sped it up, but it made the moment feel so much more deliberate, intentional—the forethought, when it came to Vaggie, was always the sexiest part.
As Charlie lit the last candle, over by the windowsill, she felt a hair of hands ghost over her hips. “Did I tell you,” Vaggie started. “Just how beautiful you look in that costume, princesa?”
Charlie sealed her lips in a hum and leaned back into her girlfriend’s hold. “I was thinking the same,” she said. “You look adorable.”
”Yeah?” Vaggie pressed her lips against the back of Charlie’s neck.
She turned and buried her hands in the thick mass of Vaggie’s hair. “Yeah,” she said, softly. She cupped Vaggie’s face in her palms.
At some point, she had stopped paying attention to who initiated the kisses in these moments—sometimes, they both moved forward at the same time, anyways. All that really mattered was they both wanted it, and they got it. She could still taste the salt of their popcorn on Vaggie’s lips.
She giggled into the kiss and leaned back. “Can we try something?” She asked—around Vaggie, the nerves were just butterflies, but she loved the feeling. “I want to try topping again, but only if you’re up for it.”
Vaggie skimmed her fingers over Charlie’s shoulder. “I can’t say no to you, hon.” She pulled the hood off and threw it over the bedpost. “Just tell me what you want.”
She licked her lips and stepped forward. “I bought us some toys,” she said. “And… if you let me use them on you, you get a treat.”
Vaggie quirked an eyebrow. “What kind of treat?”
Charlie just smiled.
Vaggie’s cute little dress came off, even with the tail—Charlie picked the headband up from the floor and placed it back on her head, adjusting it so it looked right to her and kissing the back of her neck again. “Any chance you…” She moved a long strand of Vaggie’s hair away to kiss the skin now bared. “…wanna try pet play with me?”
Vaggie’s whole face erupted into a blush. “H-Hon—“
She pressed a finger to her lips. “We can do better than that,” Charlie purred. She felt Vaggie’s breath catch with how it puffed against her finger, and just that small sensation started the heat in her stomach, and she pulled her hand away. “Unless…?”
Vaggie pursed her lips—thinking. The important thing was, there was an out if Vaggie wanted it, that she knew she was able to say no… Charlie hoped she wouldn’t take it, but well, her comfort went above her getting her rocks off.
Finally, Vaggie spoke, her voice soft. “What’s the feminine version of Master?”
Charlie licked her lips and combed her fingers through her hair. “Mistress,” she said, and Vaggie mouthed the same word back at her. “But you can stick with ‘Master’, if you want. It sounds better to me.”
”It does?” Vaggie asked.
”Yeah,” Charlie said. “I don’t know. What’s the Spanish word for ‘master?’”
Vaggie pursed her lips. “Maestro, maybe—or maestra, for a girl, but that’s normally used for like, school teachers and stuff.” A beat. “…I love you, but I’m not putting on a schoolgirl uniform for you.”
”That’s fair.” She combed Vaggie’s hair back from her face and thought about where she might want to kiss first. “No, master works, if you want to use it. Or we can just keep it vanilla tonight. Or we can just cuddle, and I’ll save your treat for another night.”
Vaggie sighed and rocked onto her toes to properly kiss Charlie’s lips. “Alright, Master. If that’s what you want, then… I’m game.”
Charlie kissed her lips and grinned down at her—if there was one thing Vaggie knew about her role play, it was that she committed to the role. “Good girl,” she cooed. “Alright, pet—what do we say when Master’s being too rough and we need to slow down?”
Vaggie swallowed. “Yellow.”
She cupped her chin—Vaggie’s skin was always so warm. “What do we say when we need to stop for the night?”
”Red.”
She thought about the bag she had in the closet, hidden behind an old suit she knew Vaggie wouldn’t normally look behind. Sometimes, it felt like her girlfriend could see everything that happened inside the hotel—not helping things was how much she hated keeping secrets from Vaggie, but honestly, smuggling in her toys, hiding them, and keeping them a secret until now added to the fun of the scene. “What do we say when we love what Master’s doing to us, and we need them to keep going?”
”Green.”
Charlie thought grinning might ruin the image she was trying to go for right now, so she bit her lip—tonight, she was a stern and loving dominatrix. She could be that for a night.
Okay, maybe not a night, but a few hours.
Okay, maybe just one hour. Either way, she was committed to the bit.
”What do we do when Master gags us, and we need it off so we can speak?”
Vaggie blinked, as if maybe taken off-guard by the implication of what Charlie was planning on doing to her tonight, which… she probably was. It was no secret that Charlie was into some weird shit, but she was usually the receiver. She suggested them, and Vaggie usually did them. In general, Vaggie tended to do most of the work—but Charlie liked to think she could pull her own weight, even if Vaggie usually liked to take control. Instead of responding verbally, Vaggie snapped her fingers three times, the sort of loud, really good noise Charlie couldn’t do half as well as her.
”That’s it, pet.” She licked her lips. “And, what do we say when we’re not up for something Master suggests tonight?”
Vaggie pursed her lips. “Not tonight?”
”Now would be a good time to say that, if there’s something we don’t want…”
Vaggie looked up at her and awkwardly clasped her hands in front of her—but she didn’t say anything.
The current part of her body that Charlie found herself infatuated with all over again: her collarbone. Sharp, pressed up against her skin—she had left quite a few hickies about where they met in front of her, but she thought she’d get around to that tonight. “Good girl,” she exhaled. “Sit.”
Vaggie hesitated a moment. “You mean like…”
”Right there,” Charlie said. “Sit right there, like a good girl.”
Her flush had yet to die down, but obediently, she sank to her knees and sat back on her legs. Vaggie was not the obedient type, had never been the obedient type, but knowing that she was willing to stick with their stupid role play? Like Charlie didn’t love her enough already. “Perfect. Stay, pet. I need to grab something.”
The closet was just behind Vaggie, the door always wide-open, even though Charlie was pretty sure Vaggie was always shutting it. Their dresses, their pants, their tops, their skirts, Charlie’s suits and Vaggie’s sandals—every last piece of clothing on it’s hanger intermingled with each other, and it was that domestic bliss they had worked up to for years. It was an excuse to wear Vaggie’s clothes, and to fetch her girlfriend her shoes when she was still brushing her hair, just so she didn’t have to get it herself. Vaggie used to spend a lot of time organizing it, keeping it separate—but after some time, the organization had just fallen to keeping anything too long on it’s hanger, hanging too low, to the side, or anything a little more formal than average to the side, so everyday clothes were easier within reach. To Charlie, it said, This is it. The equality of a couple. What you wanted. It was everything she could’ve dreamed of.
It was also the best spot to hide things—and Vaggie knew it was her hiding spot of choice, just as Charlie knew she liked to hide things under the bed. They had their respective spots, usually for gifts, and they stayed away from the suspicious things. Vaggie only liked a surprise when it was from her.
Hopefully, she loved this one.
The plastic crinkled in her hand while she looked through it, like maybe one of the items had grown legs and ran away from her, but then she figured she might as well bring the whole bag out.
As she turned out of the closet, she swore she felt eyes on her—but when she looked at Vaggie, she had quickly averted her gaze to back to where she was facing.
Her heels sounded against the floor not with the dull thuds you’d get on hardwood, not through the carpet, but the creaking of the hotel’s tired floors. The wind howled at the windows—it was nice to know even Hell’s weather was in the spirit. She dropped the bag on the bed, not too far from Vaggie. “Is my big, bad wolf getting antsy?” She asked, teasingly.
The blush was still there—it wasn’t fair her girlfriend blushed so rarely these days, and looked so cute. “Yes, Master,” she said. “A… A little.”
”Don’t worry, pet.” She poured the bag’s contents over the bed. “I’m gonna take good care of you.” Vaggie took a shaky, deep breath and shifted again on her legs—it did not instill confidence. “Color?”
”Green,” Vaggie said.
Charlie pressed a kiss to her hairline and picked up the first thing she had bought: a dog collar and a leash, maybe a bit too big for a dog, made with a thick, black band of leather.
Vaggie followed her movement and again, her breath hitched. Charlie thought, for sure, she could feel her own excitement running down her leg, and only hoped that was a sign this arousal was something mutual between the two of them.
She leaned down to her girlfriend’s level. “Does my good little girl want to get leashed up?” She asked. “Make her Master happy? Make it clear who she belongs to?”
Vaggie bit her lip and looked down at the floor—was shyness supposed to excite her? It did, all the same. “Yes, Master.”
”Good girl.” She dropped to her knees entirely and wrapped it around Vaggie’s pale throat. She was pretty sure the rule was you had to be able to fit two fingers inside it to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but she did three and tugged against it. “Is this okay?” She asked. “You know I don’t wanna choke you.”
Vaggie swallowed, and her fingers were so close to her, Charlie felt it and felt her own mouth instantly dry up. If she could’ve stayed in this one moment forever, so close to her girlfriend, her cheeks stained with a blush and a growing dark spot on her panties, she would’ve. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair and watched Vaggie shiver, gently. “Yes, Master, it’s okay.”
She kissed her hairline again, adjusted her headband again, and hooked the leash in her hand on with a click. She got the tag ingrained and everything—giant, blocky letters with Vaggie’s name. She stood before tugging on the leash and prompting Vaggie to her feet. “C’mon, pet. I wanna see how good you are at obeying your master.”
She moved slowly—the leash had plenty of slack. She thought it was good enough that it was there, to signify whatever brief, faked ownership there was between them, then to actually drag Vaggie over to the bed. It didn’t sound like something Charlie was even capable of.
…That said, she wouldn’t mind Vaggie maybe dragging her to the bed on a leash—or maybe just by the hair. She couldn’t imagine a world where she’d be unwilling—so, maybe Vaggie would just be eager, too eager to slow down, just wanting to throw her onto the bed, and rip her clothes off, and—
Vaggie’s not on top, she reminded herself. I am—and I’m gonna do a good job!
She put the handle of the leash on one of the bedposts, and Vaggie sat on her knees again, plenty of slack on the leash while she folded her hands on her lap. Charlie licked her lips, and looked over her again.
Vaggie was pale, and she was thin. Her ribs were just barely visible, but she had this little dot of a birthmark, just a little below her small breasts. Charlie was beginning to think she had a thing for flat chests—sure, her crushes had a few outliers like Verosika Mayday, because who wouldn’t want to have sex with her? But all the people she’d been truly, wholly attracted to had flat chests. Seviathan, Vaggie… okay, that wasn’t a lot, but still, she liked Vaggie’s.
She reached and pinched around a nipple, hardened from the cool air of the room. “Are we enjoying ourselves, pet?” She asked, sweetly.
Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips, messing up the black lipstick she had stolen from Charlie. “Yes, Master.” Charlie grasped her chin gently, and ran her thumb over that lower lip she couldn’t look away from, smearing it over her skin. Even if the room felt cold, Vaggie’s lips and her breath were warm—and then she stuck out her tongue again and tried to catch Charlie’s thumb, pulling it between her lips and into her mouth…
Vaggie moaned softly around the digit, passing her tongue over it and sucking lightly, her eye half-lidded but brimming with desire. Maybe it was her hollowed cheeks, though, that sent warmth thrumming through her whole body and pulsing between her thighs. “Mm, someone’s… hungry.”
Something flickered in Vaggie’s eye and she nipped just the end of Charlie’s thumb before she pulled it out, still smeared with Vaggie’s spit and lipstick. “Starving,” she replied.
”Maybe I should show you your treat,” Charlie mused. “Do you want that?”
”I’d love that, Master.”
”Love that, huh?” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and looked over her girlfriend, thoughtfully. “That doesn’t tell me if you want it, pet. I asked you, do you want to see your treat?”
Vaggie whined, and it was such a beautiful sound, Charlie wanted to record it on her phone so she’d always have it, able to listen to it whenever. “Yes, I want it, Master.”
Charlie grinned. “Better.”
She took a step away from the bed and started unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom. The air prickled against just the bottom of her stomach, and then her abdomen, and then her chest, Vaggie’s eye roaming over every last inch of flesh bared to her until all the buttons were undone and her shirt only stuck on by the arms—the red lace of her bra had been itching just about all night, and one of the straps over the top of her right breast were twisted, but she’d fix it in a minute—that ribbon around her collar was still there.
She cleared her throat and leaned forward. “Get that ribbon for me, pet?” She asked.
She expected Vaggie to use her hands, like a normal person, as Charlie was also normal and thus had normal expectations, but instead she leaned in close and gripped the end of the knot with her teeth, pulling down so her chin pressed against her breasts.
And then she moved backwards, ribbon still between her teeth, and the barest hint of her leftover warmth on Charlie’s skin.
Deep breaths, she told herself, stomach clenching hard with her desire to give in now and show Vaggie just what she did to her. In—and she held it for a few seconds, and then out, through her teeth, with her eyes shut, but when she opened them, Vaggie was just as hot as she’d been a few minutes ago.
”Thank you, pet,” she forced herself to say, slipping her arms out of the sleeves and letting her shirt fall to the floor, the ends wrinkled from where they’d been tucked into her skirt. That came off too, pooling by her ankles before she stepped out of it. She straightened her panties, and that one string, and then showed off the whole ensemble to her girlfriend.
Bright red. Maybe the same color as her favorite suit, and her pupils, and the circles on her cheeks—lace cut low enough her tits might’ve spilled out if it weren’t for the straps on top that kept them in. Stockings so white, they almost blended in with her skin, held up by the red garterbelt attached to the boy shorts she had on, and then her black heels… It had looked pretty good on the mannequin when she saw it, but she loved how it felt on her.
Vaggie did too—the ribbon between her teeth fell into her lap.
”Is this my treat, Master?” She asked, reaching out for that strap she had just straightened, and brushing her palm over her chest.
”No.” She cleared her throat, and pressed a hand to Vaggie’s. She guided it down, down, to the cutout in her panties where her arousal dripped down her legs, hot and sticky. “This is your treat, pet.”
She let go of her hand, and Vaggie kept it there a minute, fingers brushing over her slit, nudging against her labia. She tried to reach farther back, for her entrance, but Charlie slapped her hand and she pulled it away. Her fingers were still slick.
Maybe it was the heels, but she felt more confident. She always did in heels. “How do I look?” Charlie asked.
Vaggie’s tongue swept over her own soaked fingers. “Good enough to eat, Master.”
She stroked over Vaggie’s cheek tenderly with her thumb. “That’s good—we want you to appreciate your treats, right? We don’t want you to be ungrateful, pet.”
She didn’t bother trying to meet Charlie’s eyes, too busy staring at her breasts. “I’m very grateful, Master. Thank you so much.”
How easy would it be, to push Vaggie onto her back right now, to touch her right where she craved to touch most. Who was the teasing for, at this point? She knew Vaggie wanted her, and she wanted Vaggie…
”You have to earn your treat, pet,” she cooed, kissing the tip of her nose. Vaggie shifted and tried to catch her lips.
It almost hurt to move back, to deny Vaggie her kisses—she felt like, ever since they had started dating, she at least owed Vaggie kisses. Physical expressions of her absolute adoration for her girlfriend—she deserved them, and her lips were so warm… She swallowed, hard, and reached for that last, new toy on the bed.
She saw how Vaggie tensed up, and her eye widen. “Oh, fuck,” she breathed.
Charlie swallowed and climbed back on the bed, beside her. “Color, pet?”
Arousal sparked in her eye—she pursed her lips, and her cheeks colored further. She swallowed, wetted the lips Charlie thought she’d been craving for an eternity, and was so quiet, Charlie thought she’d have to ask again, or maybe just nix this part of her plans. “Green,” she whispered.
”Alright.”
She turned Vaggie so she was in front of her and started securing the muzzle she had bought—it had been a little awkward, measuring Vaggie’s head while she slept to make sure she didn’t get one too tight around her skull or anything, but… she didn’t know. Vaggie made a lot of noise when Charlie got her in bed—she moaned, she sighed, she panted, she cursed, she groaned, hissed, growled. Once, with a good, clit-sucking toy and Charlie’s fingers, she had gotten Vaggie to scream, and Charlie masturbated to that memory about once every two weeks. Covering Vaggie’s mouth, keeping her quiet, muffling her words and her pleas…
It sounded so hot, Charlie had been buzzing when she had bought it.
The leather straps wrapped around Vaggie’s head and secured a black-leather square over her mouth. Two other straps ran over her head, on either side of her nose to keep it up. She needed to tighten a buckle or two, but it fit perfectly. “Not too tight?” She asked, just to make sure. Vaggie nodded her head.
”What do we do when we need to stop like this?” Charlie asked. Vaggie snapped her fingers three times. “Good girl. And if our hands are busy, and we need to stop, we just grunt three times, okay? Do that for me.” Vaggie’s breath puffed from her nose over the top of her gag—but she did as told, and Charlie cupped her face. “We’re such a good girl. We really deserve that treat, huh?” She kissed over her mouth, and immediately regretted putting the gag on—it didn’t matter if she was supposed to tease her, it felt like she was torturing herself. “Hands and knees, pet.”
Vaggie scrambled to comply, facing the headboard of their shared bed, and staring at the wall through it’s slats. “So obedient,” she mused. “We’re a very good girl, Vaggie! We really want Master to give us our treat, huh?”
She fixed a small twist in the leash so it hung a little straighter—it was far from taut, and Vaggie had plenty of room to breathe, but just the fact that it was there… Charlie knew Vaggie wouldn’t do something this degrading for just anyone, and knowing that she trusted Charlie to be this vulnerable… She really got lucky—having such a beautiful, lovely girlfriend that would go for the weird shit she suggested in bed.
She found the newest addition to their night in the nightstand, a Hitachi wand—an old favorite of Vaggie’s, gently worn, but still holding strong. “I know we’re gonna earn our treat.” She settled on her knees behind her, rubbing her palm over the exposed skin in front of her, squeezing around her upper-thigh. Her skin was warm, but the cool air had started to dot her skin with goosebumps Charlie tried to soothe away with her palms. “You know, I should’ve gotten you a tail. Make you look even cuter, pet.” Vaggie shivered. “I know you like your double-penetration too… I should’ve bought that for you, pet. I’m sorry.” She checked the battery on it and pressed the head against her clit, while it was still switched off. “I think my big, bad wolf needs some attention. What do you think?”
Vaggie didn’t respond. She tapped the head of the toy gently against her clit. “I’ll go easy on you, okay, pet? Just because you need to earn your treat doesn’t mean I’m punishing you.” She ran a hand through her hair tenderly. “Hold still for me.”
She started on one of the middle settings. She always did—Charlie liked to eye the new, flashy toys, vibrators with dozens and dozens of different settings, but her girlfriend didn’t usually seek out spontaneity—she went for the tried and true. Her favorite strap-on, where Charlie knew each individual bump and ridge like the back of her hand, her favorite vibrating wand, the same pair of nipple clamps when Charlie was in the mood to torture the both of them with teasing, a leather paddle scuffed from their use…
She loved trying new things, like this—but there was a comfort in the old, and she would admit, so long as she did it with this beautiful person in front of her, on her hands and knees, she was up for anything and everything.
”I should top more often,” she mused, switching to a higher setting—a six, instead of the four it’d been at. Vaggie grunted behind her gag, but held perfectly still. “I think someone needs to take care of you, Vaggie.” She pressed the head down a little harder and raised it up one more setting—enough for Vaggie to moan. “And you look so cute like this… I think we need to do this more often. Let me dress you up, and put you down like this, take care of all of your needs…” She swallowed and slipped a finger from her freehand over her slit, where her arousal shined in the fake-candlelight. “My pet needs to be spoiled, huh? You deserve that, don’t you?”
Vaggie turned her head to try and look at her, and Charlie moved her finger back closer to her entrance. “I said, hold still, pet.”
She went back to staring ahead at the wall, the slightest tremor in her legs while Charlie’s finger pried it’s way into her. She wasn’t even an inch in before Vaggie moaned, muffled and covered—but she thought, as far as her orders went, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. “Good girl—make more noise for me, okay?”
She switched the vibrator back to a four, just to hear her disappointed groan before she buried her finger up the knuckle and curled it towards Vaggie’s stomach. “You’re so easy for me,” she murmured, grinding the toy against her a little harder. “So nice and pliant.” Another moan, and she decided the praise was clearly doing something. “Soft. So fucking wet.”
Mostly, though, Vaggie was tight—maybe she was tense. Her tendency to be on top probably helped—she wasn’t used to having things inside her. Charlie thought it must have been a control thing—you didn’t have as much control on the bottom, with your partner, and she trusted Charlie, sure, but it didn’t mean she was always comfortable with that. Frankly, she was such a good top, Charlie liked things the way they usually were. Vaggie knew her way around her body—and around a vibrator… and a dildo… and those rising crops. And those whips. And that belt she had reserved for special occasions, when Charlie had that craving for something she had only ever gotten from Vaggie.
Fuck, Charlie loved that belt—when Vaggie grabbed her by the back of her neck and shoved her face into the bed, and whipped the back of her legs and told her what a bad girl she was. When Vaggie grabbed her by the hair and turned her around, made her thank her for her punishment, spat in her face, say it like you mean it, you fucking slut—
Vaggie knew how to hit. And she hit hard, but never hard enough to deter Charlie—she knew there was something to be gained from the pain, but what she really loved about it was the sounds—Vaggie’s palm slapping against her skin, the snarl in her throat when she yanked Charlie’s head back, her grunting through her teeth, asking: are you my good little princess, or are you a whore? Only whores touch themselves while they’re getting fucked. Do you want me to stop, and you can just finger your needy pussy while I watch, is that what you want?
Charlie snapped to the present, with her girlfriend twitching below her. Her eyes were shut, her brow furrowed, and she’d been so lost in her daydream, her fingers had stopped moving inside her.
Her toes curled inside her heels, flexing—sweat had begun to drip down her back, and even though she wasn’t the one with a leash attached to the bed frame and a vibrator against her clit, she had somehow gotten herself more worked up than Vaggie. She fought to bring herself down, to focus damnit.
With a deep breath, Charlie went back to fingering her girlfriend. Vaggie didn’t like it hard and fast like her—Charlie liked being pushed down, teased, fingerblasted, being told she was going to take Vaggie’s whole fist up her cunt so she can see how good she looked stretched out. Vaggie had a much more laid-back taste. Charlie could make it work, though.
She twisted her fingers and curled them towards Vaggie’s stomach—her hand on the vibrator slipped and she pulled it away. Vaggie could barely whine her protest.
She wiggled her fingers against a tiny little bump and Vaggie’s leg twitched. “Right there?” She whispered. “You can tell me if you like what I’m doing.”
She pressed her finger against the spot she had found just a moment ago, and Vaggie tensed up, huffing out her breath through her nose—as if that wasn’t a dead give away, she clenched around Charlie’s fingers, and throbbed against the touch. “There we go,” Charlie cooed. “We like it right there?” She started rocking her fingers out and back in again, angling and rubbing against that same spot until she got another one of her moans, more of a desperate hum against the gag.
She took another deep breath and gripped the Hitachi again, putting it back where her girlfriend needed her attention the most and flicking the switch to a nine. “Good girl.” She sighed. “I’m not going to stop until you squirt for me tonight.” Vaggie made this quick, small little squeak and tried to turn her head to look at her. “You heard me, pet—I want you to squirt for me. You can take all the time you need, baby.”
Her thighs clenched, and Charlie licked her lips. “Are you close, pet?”
She ran her fingers again over that perfect ridge inside her girlfriend’s body, swollen with her arousal. I’m really glad I trimmed my nails this morning, Charlie thought. Vaggie probably was too—she wasn’t into getting scratched.
Charlie, on the other hand…
She ran the pad of her finger against it, and shivered—was it normal to be so aroused, just watching yourself finger your girlfriend? Vaggie was tight and wet, but it wasn’t like Charlie felt any pleasure through her fingers—she could just feel Vaggie, but that was good enough. Maybe it was watching her fingers sink into her? Knowing she was enjoying herself? Making her girlfriend feel good? Maybe it was just that she wanted something inside her, and she was too busy domming to get it, so she had to do it to Vaggie.
”Faster you cum,” she purred. “The faster you get your treat, pet.” Vaggie’s legs trembled again, and then something finally broke and she started thrusting her hips back, trying to meet her fingers and grind against the vibrator. “Ooh, somebody wants her treat. Are we desperate?” She watched the tremors run through Vaggie’s body, and flipped the switch back to a six, forcing Vaggie back down from whatever high she’d been climbing—she made her frustration known. “Don’t worry, pet. I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.” Her fingers clawed at the sheets—yes. Just like this—this was how Charlie liked her. Ravenous. Needy. Her nails ready to scratch whatever they could, and her teeth ready to sink into whatever they could—growling, and snarling, and hissing like a beast, a fucking animal, and she was all her’s.
She moved faster, in her eagerness to please her girlfriend, and apparently ruined her building orgasm because she slammed her fist into the mattress and cried into her gag, pussy clenching hard around her fingers, but she didn’t cum.
She turned it up a setting. “Maybe we don’t want to squirt today,” Charlie mused. “Maybe we don’t want our treat.”
Vaggie’s back arched, fingers curling into the sheets hard enough to rip them. “You’re so fucking pretty,” Charlie sighed, kissing the back of her neck. “Maybe the prettiest girl I ever saw.”
She pressed against that ridge again and Vaggie moaned, her eye shutting, body shaking again. Charlie bit her lip. “Relax,” she whispered. “Relax for me, pet.”
Her muscles tensed—more than anything, she wanted to smooth a hand down her back, to stroke her chair and rub at her trembling body, but she only had two hands, and she didn’t think she had it in herself to take away the vibrator again—so she kicked it up to ten and held it still against her clit. “C’mon, Vags. Cum for me.”
Somehow, that seemed to do the trick.
It wasn’t the vibrator, at it’s highest setting, buzzing like a fucking wasp nest, and it wasn’t the friction on her g-spot, and it couldn’t have even been the order to cum, like Charlie could make her do it just by asking.
It was the for me, bit. Apparently, penetration and toys couldn’t make her cum. Charlie could.
Vaggie cried out, loud even behind the gag, and her eye flying open. An orgasm tore through her body so hard, Charlie worried she might’ve ruptured something, the hot trickle on her fingers from Vaggie’s pussy calming her down a little. Usually, people didn’t squirt when they were in pain, or injured, so she thought it was safe to say Vaggie was enjoying herself plenty.
”Perfect,” Charlie said. She considered stroking her hair, but thought that’d just be messy. Slowly, she pulled her hand out, dripping from Vaggie’s wetness, sticky with her arousal. Vaggie made the smallest, most muffled whimper, and Charlie decided she couldn’t wait any longer to take gag off.
She moved so quickly, she forgot to shut off the toy, and all but threw the gag onto the floor and flipped Vaggie onto her back to better face her. “Was that too much?” She asked. “Vaggie? Are you—“
”Fine,” she gasped. She shut her eye and fell back onto the mattress, her legs still shaking. Charlie was still kinda concerned—but it was a big confidence boost to see her girlfriend so… out of it. “Just… gi-gimme a minute, please.”
Charlie waited—she could be patient, when she wanted to! She knew how! And Vaggie, with her chest rising and falling with her breaths, and a flush on her face… Fuck, she’d wait forever for her.
Slowly, her breathing evened out. She exhaled a small sigh. “God.”
”You did really good, pet.” She kissed her temple and Vaggie relaxed a little more. “Did you cum?”
”Yeah.”
She cleared her throat. “Are you sure?” Charlie asked. Vaggie opened her eye to look at her. “It’s just… usually, you… you squirt, and you cum after, if I keep it up—if you need me to keep going—“
”No.” Vaggie licked her lips and looked her over. “I came. That was good.”
”You’re good.” She kissed her forehead again—and cupped her face, smearing her own slick along her cheek. She half-expected Vaggie to be grossed out, to complain about the mess, but she just smiled at her. “You’re a very good girl, pet. You did so well.” She ran her thumb over her lip—and slipped it between them.
Vaggie’s tongue made her shiver—she wondered, briefly, how good that tongue would feel on her exposed slit, how eagerly Vaggie would lap at her, eat her out. She thought about those snarls, and growls, how Vaggie’s teeth might just nip her and she could cry out, beg for mercy, or for more…
She slipped another finger into Vaggie’s mouth, still smearing her juices over her face—and one by one, Vaggie cleaned each finger off, tongue tracing every bit of her skin, until her hands only dripped saliva and when Charlie pulled her hand back and tried not to somehow cum then and there, with just her love for Vaggie’s mouth the only stimulation she had, Vaggie just licked her lips and asked, “Did I earn my treat, Master?”
She forgot entirely about their pet play. She was too in love, and too focused on Vaggie’s face—the gentleness in her eyes, and the quirk to her lips like she knew Charlie was putty in her hands, and that perfect little nose…
”Huh?” Vaggie smiled, and she remembered: oh, right. Sex. Charlie was on top. Right.
She unhooked the leash from Vaggie’s collar. “Fetch the strap-on for me, girl?”
Vaggie didn’t immediately go the for strap-on. She leaned in and pressed her mouth against Charlie’s, for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
It hurt to push her hand against her shoulder. “You know that’s not the strap-on,” she said.
”I don’t care.” She moved closer and wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck, kissing her again. There was the slightest imprint, from the seam in the leather of the gag, that pushed just off-center of her lips and Charlie wanted to kiss that spot until it bruised. “I just want you, Master.”
The word came out mocking, like she hadn’t just been leashed to the bed. I have you right where I want you, her eyes whispered. I can do whatever I want to you and I know it. I know you want me too.
”Don’t you want your treat?” Charlie asked, half-heartedly.
Vaggie got up and fetched their usual strap-on—the same purple, rubber one they tended to go. No bells and whistles, just a simple, semi-thick, smooth dildo, maybe seven-inches long. Vaggie never really went for the fun-looking ones. She also didn’t need to to make Charlie melt, so maybe she was onto something.
She already had it all on and tightened around her hips by the time she reached the bed and tried to climb on top of Charlie—the overwhelming urge to lay back and let Vaggie take the lead was only just overshadowed by her commitment to the role she was playing. She hooked her fingers into the metal ring on Vaggie’s collar, securing her tag to the leather band and tugged just hard enough to stop her. “Who’s in charge?” She asked. Vaggie licked her lips. “Who’s your Master right now, pet?”
”You are,” she said—she didn’t look like she believed it.
Charlie didn’t either. “Sit on the bed, spread your legs.”
She couldn’t move fast enough—but Vaggie did sit down, legs spread, and that strap-on cutting Charlie off from her wet cunt. It suddenly felt like she hadn’t given it enough attention, and she wanted to suddenly tear off the strap-on and give Vaggie oral until morning came (and probably Vaggie, again), but she couldn’t wait any longer.
She rose onto her knees and crawled onto Vaggie’s lap, hands on her shoulders. “Do you still like your treat, pet?” She asked.
”I love my treat, Master,” she said. “Thank you so much…” A hand slipped to Charlie’s hip and she jumped, even though it was nowhere near the cut out in her panties, nowhere near anything that should make her jump. “Can I… play with it?”
She wondered if her outfit would last the night—she was sweating through it, at this rate. “You shouldn’t play with your food,” she responded. She felt the cold tip of it against her entrance—she… really doubted they would need lube tonight. “Thank me again, pet.”
The hand gripped her hip a little harder—Vaggie’s nails dug into her skin and she had to bite her lip so she didn’t squeal. “Thank you, Master,” Vaggie said. “I love my treat—fuck, Charlie, c’mon, please…”
She sank herself down.
It was always the first few inches that felt the best—it went in so easily, and she watched Vaggie’s pupil dilate, and thought this was the definition of bliss.
Then the stars winked in front of her eyes, and she nearly went cross-eyed with pleasure, and all she could do was groan, bouncing on Vaggie’s lap.
That was it—she was out of material. She had no wit, no creativity, no more commitment, just the maddening desire to be fucked by her girlfriend. Even if she was supposed to be dominating, Vaggie’s hands helping her fuck herself onto her perfect, plastic cock just reminded her this was nothing but a role, and it wasn’t meant for the long-term. Drool slipped down her chin, glossing over her lips. It didn’t matter how deep Vaggie actually went in her thrusts or Charlie’s bounces, because this was already so impossibly intimate, she could feel her girlfriend all the way in the center of her being, with or without the intercourse.
Yeah, she was a sap for this woman.
Vaggie’s hand fisted in her hair. The nails on her hip scratched deeper. “Charlie,” she breathed out—whatever she wanted, Charlie thought she would give it to her, no questions asked, so long as she said her name like that.
She received no other warning.
Vaggie’s body pushed her flat onto her back—but the hand in her hair made it feel like she was pulled, yanked down. No sooner than she was down, Vaggie grabbed her legs and pulled them over her hips, and took control of the pace. She didn’t go for the slow one Charlie had tried—she went fast. Deep—desperate. Her thrusts were violent, almost punishing, like she sought to leave bruises from her hips onto Charlie.
It was the hottest fucking thing.
Charlie screamed—no, this was it, this was why she was on the bottom. Because she loved bottoming, when Vaggie was the one taking charge, when she was on top and she just got to lay back and beg for whatever she was willing to give.
Vaggie always gave her a lot.
Thrusting like a piston, Vaggie put all her weight down, pinning her down. It didn’t matter how small she was, or how light her body was—she felt pinned. Overpowered. Dominated. She felt good about it. Vaggie grit her teeth and snapped at her, gaze brimming with lust. All Charlie could think about was how she wanted her girlfriend closer.
She clawed at Vaggie’s back in an attempt to bring her closer—Vaggie yanked her top down, so her breasts bounced out and looked down at Charlie’s panties. They didn’t need to be moved, with the cut-out, but they were already becoming soaked through with her sweat and slick, and it was getting uncomfortable. She didn’t care—she wrapped her legs around Vaggie’s waist and tried to control her panting. She was doing a very, very bad job at it.
”Are you gonna cum, princess?” Vaggie asked—she didn’t let up. Charlie could no longer tell if the moisture on her face was tears or drool. “Is my pretty little treat getting ready to cum her brains out?”
”Yu—ahh—Vaggie—“
”Go ahead.” Vaggie grinned, and it was the closest thing to evil Charlie had ever seen on her. “I’m not stopping. You can cum. Go on—show me what a good girl you are.”
Charlie’s stomach clenched—there was no way to properly show her how much she wanted her, so she just weakly grasped at whatever she could. Vaggie growled again, fucked her harder into the mattress and bit her shoulder.
It wasn’t deep—not deep enough to damage anything, and probably not even deep enough to bleed, but it hurt. Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, and she came, held back onto the mattress, her pussy stuffed with as much of the toy as she could possibly take and Vaggie could give, and her body spasming.
Vaggie waited for her to calm down, a hand stroking her hair. “Color?” She asked.
Charlie thought she had came so hard, she had propelled her mind past the understanding of colors and all that wasn’t the pleasure her girlfriend was capable of giving to her. “Green,” she said, when she could at least remember her understanding of English.
”Good girl.” Vaggie pulled out and went to touch her slit, a thumb rubbing over her clit and sending a delicious spark of pleasure up her spine. She spread her legs a little farther for Vaggie, but didn’t get any more of that same treatment. Instead, her fingers spread Charlie’s labia and she looked her over. “I don’t think I’m done enjoying my treat just yet. I think I should…” She licked her lips. “Savor it.”
Charlie shivered. “Yes. Satan, Vaggie, please—“
She didn’t skip a beat. “Please what, princess?”
Obediently, Charlie finished, “Please, mistress?”