25
How’d it go?
Brandon had barely walked through the door of his apartment when a text flashed from Amanda and Isabella. He stood there for a beat, watching the microwave run its timer, letting the memory of what went down with Monica wash over him.
Nothing happened, he typed.
You better not have screwed this up, Amanda sent back. The typing bubble hovered on screen for a moment. Isabella put some filthy ideas in my head, and you're getting punished if you ruin them. I'll make what I did in the locker room look gentle.
Brandon paused, hot food in one hand as he stared down at his phone and reread the text. He hissed a curse when the heat began burning his fingers, setting the plate down on the counter. He started drafting a few responses, but deleted every single one.
Brandon stopped, took a few deep breaths, and then smiled.
It was just a conditioned reflex—scrambling to make excuses or dodge getting chewed out.
But he wasn’t in any real trouble. Amanda had given him permission to fool around with Monica in the first place, even if nothing had actually happened in the end. This was just her teasing him.
That’s it? Not even going to defend yourself? Must’ve done something terrible, then, didn't you? If you made that girl cry…
Ever since the first day they started texting, his dynamic with Amanda had danced to this exact beat. She’d come down hard on him, order him to do something, and then reward him with a suggestive photo.
Brandon picked his food back up and sank onto the sofa to eat. He’d explain the whole story later, in person. For now, he leaned right back into Amanda's game.
I’m sorry, Mistress.
“Spill, spill! I want to know everything!” Isabella bounded over to Brandon at the edge of the pool. He was in the middle of serving Sally and another older woman, but the brunette didn’t seem to notice at all.
“Let the boy work, Isa.” Amanda’s voice cut in as she stepped up behind her friend, shooting an apologetic smile toward the woman by the pool. “Forgive her, Sally. She gets rude when she's excited.”
The older woman gave a polite wave of her hand, dismissing Brandon. Tray now empty, he headed toward the bar to return it, Isabella and Amanda trailing right behind him.
“You both look stunning.” The two were in swimwear, sarongs draped around their waists, hair tied up—likely fresh out of the spa.
Brandon couldn’t get enough of staring at them.
He could spend all day right there, simply standing by the edge of the pool while the two women who now owned his life lounged in the sun.
Even on a blistering hot day like this.
“Don’t even try it. I told you a punishment is waiting for you. Compliments won’t save you now.” Amanda sank into one of the loungers set further back. “Where’s that sharp tongue of yours now?”
“Punish him? But you were the one who told him to do it. Don't tell me he couldn't control himself? Don’t be mean to the poor guy,” Isabella teased in her sweet, pouty tone.
“He hasn't told me what happened yet. He’s hiding out like a guilty puppy who trashed the house while his Mistress was away.”
“I didn’t break any orders. No ‘couldn't hold back,’ just like you told me.”
“That’s a start. You’re saving yourself for us to enjoy. Not some random girl who was trying to blackmail you.”
“That’s not what you said about her when we went to the spa, Amanda. I distinctly remember you drooling over those massive ti-”
“Doesn’t matter. That's not the point right now.” She leveled an accusing index finger at him. “What did you do, bad boy?”
“It just didn’t happen.”
“She turned you down?” Amanda still sounded skeptical.
“Come on, out with it. Tell us, honey!”
Brandon traded glances with Amanda, who met his eyes with a challenging look.
“She’s painfully shy, and that was the only way she knew how to... Well, it would’ve been her first time. So I told her it should be different. More special, not on the spa floor with me only allowed to use my hands.”
Amanda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like you still want to fuck her.”
Brandon smiled. He was developing quite an appetite for getting a rise out of Amanda. It had worked out well over text, so he was eager to see how it played out face-to-face.
“She’s a virgin?” Isabella leaned forward, resting her hands between her knees, all ears.
“Yeah. And painfully shy. She ended up mortified, bursting into tears, and I ended up telling her maybe you two could come up with a solution for the whole thing.”
“Ha! Just what we needed.” Amanda slid her sunglasses down from her hair and leaned back into her chair.
“Hold on. What if we let her in on our little game, huh?”
“Don’t even think about it, Isa. I’m not betting against her.”
“Not betting, but... anyway. What did you say, sweetheart?”
Brandon noticed the bartender waving at him from across the patio.
“I told her I’d have to check with you two, since she seems dead set on it being me. But she seemed really serious about it.”
“That explains why she was acting so flustered when we went to the spa,” Isabella remarked to Amanda, though he couldn't catch the reply.
Brandon stepped over to the bar and returned with two cocktails, even though they hadn’t ordered yet. He knew them well enough by now to know they’d want one soon anyway. Amanda arched an eyebrow in question, but took the drink. Isabella smiled warmly, blowing him a kiss.
The blonde went to bring the glass to her lips, but froze halfway. Her eyes narrowed at the gleam reflecting off Brandon’s wrist, her mouth falling open as her brain processed the new discovery.
“No... you didn’t.”
Amanda set her drink down on the flagstones and caught Brandon by the wrist, pushing her sunglasses up to stare at the gold bracelet he was wearing.
The high-pitched squeal of victory Isabella let out was piercing even for her. The brunette gave an excited shimmy, shoulders bouncing in celebration.
Amanda’s gaze darted between the bracelet, Isabella, and Brandon.
“You took him out of the club, even after we agreed we’d do it together. You cheater.” She tugged Brandon’s arm closer, twisting his wrist to read the engraving. “And you, boy... You were already in trouble. But now? Oh, please. I’m not even going to start.”
Isabella was still basking in triumph. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t let her intimidate you. You love your new ‘collar,’ don't you?”
Collar. That’s one way to look at it. But Brandon liked the thought; that was fundamentally what the bracelet was. He had no control over when he could take it off, and it had a name engraved right into it. It just wasn’t strapped around his neck.
“First of all: you owe me a date now, you little... God, I want to curse you out so bad, but I’m not risking a scene here. You’re taking me out. Saturday. You don’t have a choice.”
“Of course, Mistress.”
“Now go do some work. I don't want to look at your face.” Amanda spat the command, but a wicked smirk played across her lips. She was pushing Brandon harder with every passing day—baiting confrontation, teasing him relentlessly.
Brandon could hardly wait to see what would happen when the two of them were finally alone together.