CHAPTER ONE — STEPHANIE
I watch in disbelief as John and David exit the room. What the hell just happened? I look down at the crinkled dress in my hands. He can't be serious.
I run through the events of the last twenty minutes or so in my head. Did that really happen? It all started when I decided to flirt with David's coworker and arch-nemesis, John, at a party.
David is my landlord, and things have gotten, well, weird between us over the last few weeks. I mean, weird would be putting it lightly. Essentially, we've fallen into some kind of mutual-blackmail sexual arrangement.
I don't know what's happening, and I don't think David does either. All I know is I hate him and I'm obsessed with him at the same time. We're playing games with each other, and as much as I want to win, I also want to lose to him and have him make me pay the consequences. It's fucked up.
But he's like crack to me. I can't stay away. And I also can't stay away from playing my little games with him, which means riling him up. The latest of which was flirting with his coworker, John.
I don't know much about John, except that David hates him. And so, of course, I took the opportunity to flirt with John right in front of David, knowing it would piss David off. And I was right.
What I didn't expect was for John to catch David and me mid-party and insert himself into the situation. By that, I mean threaten both of us: if we didn't go along with his demands, he'd out us to everyone.
See, John caught us in a compromising position. And it didn't take long for him to put two and two together: namely, that we're involved. Which is a bad look for both of us, but particularly for David, since I'm his tenant, and about twenty to thirty years younger than him.
David denies being into younger women, but I don't believe him, because I've seen the way he looks at me. He tried to hide it for a long time, and I almost believed it. But no man's self-control is that strong, even David's. And so he gave in.
But now that he has, he almost scares me. I knew he was twisted, but it's even more than I was expecting. Part of me wonders if I bit off more than I could chew.
A thrill runs up my spine contemplating all the things David wants to do to me. The fucked-up thing, though, is that the scarier things get, or the more I push myself, the more turned on I am by the whole situation. And I think David is the same.
We're in a loop where if one of us escalates, the other one matches. This is either going to end in love or mutual annihilation.
Anyway, that's how I found myself twenty minutes ago in John's house, subjecting myself to the depravity of both men.
They did things to me that I both hated and loved.
My legs are still weak, from the orgasms I was brought to the brink of, again and again, but never allowed to have, and from the hard fucking they both gave me.
Oh, and speaking of which: I look down at my inner thighs.
Slightly congealed, creamy white liquid marks them. Embarrassment floods through me.
Can I really do this? David made it very clear, and John did too, that I'm not allowed to wipe this up before rejoining them at the party, and that there will be consequences if I do. A thrill runs through me when I think about that. What would they do to punish me?
I mean, the fact that this has gone so far is due in large part to the fact that I crave it: the escalating punishments, the escalating depravity. When you tell me I shouldn't do something, I have to do it. And it doesn't hurt that it's what turns me on, too.
I slip my dress over my head. I don't have any underwear. I guess this is what I'm about to do. I try to smooth down my hair in the mirror, and then remember that David gave me five minutes to rejoin them.
I don't know if he even said there'd be consequences if I don't do it in five minutes, but I know there will be, and I don't need to give that man any more excuses to punish me.
So I pat down my hair a few times, although it's futile.
I look like a feral cat. My cheeks are flushed.
I bet I smell like sex. My hair is a mess, and of course, there's the semen half-dried on my legs.
Maybe if I move around a lot, nobody will notice.
Either way, I don't have time to think about that.
I run down the stairs and pull the door shut behind me.
I glance at the time on my phone. I better get going.
I start half-jogging towards the party. Shit, I hope I can make it.