The air in the mansion shifts the moment the door locks again.
Mirabel leads. Janelle follows her steps slow, deliberate, each heel strike sounding like judgment.
Behind them trail three obedient toys naked, aroused, and utterly at their mercy.
The living room becomes the first stage.
First Target: Aster
"On the rug," Janelle commands.
Aster obeys fast—she drops to all fours, cheek pressed to the velvet floor, breath shaking.
Her thighs are already soaked, trembling from being teased in the car.
Mirabel circles her like a predator.
"I heard you moaned my name when you came last week," she whispers, crouching beside her.
"Is that true?"
Aster nods, terrified and aroused.
"I couldn't stop... I'm sorry, Miss."
Mirabel grips her jaw tight, forcing her to look up.
"You'll be sorrier when I'm done with you."
Janelle sits, legs spread lazily, one arm thrown over the backrest.
She doesn't touch Aster. Not yet.
She makes Naya do it instead.
Naya grabs a long, slender toy—vibrating.
Shoves it deep.
"Count every thrust," she purrs.
"One—ah! Two—three—M-Mirabel please—four!"
By ten, Aster is crying.
By twenty, she's begging.
By thirty, she comes so violently she blacks out for a second.
And still, they don't stop.
Second Target: Kade
"Up," Janelle commands.
Her voice is calm but dark. Wicked.
Kade stands, erection flushed and leaking.
"You're mine tonight," she tells him.
Mirabel watches her carefully.
Kade is pushed onto the couch, wrists bound with silk ropes.
Janelle straddles him, sliding her wetness over his cock without letting him inside.
"Beg for it," she whispers.
"Please, Mistress... please let me fuck you... I'll do anything."
She slaps him. Not hard but enough to make him gasp.
"Anything?"
"Yes."
So she rides him.
Slow at first.
Then punishing.
She chokes him a little.
She bites his neck.
She makes eye contact with Mirabel the entire time.
When he's about to come, she stops.
"You don't come unless Mirabel says you can."
Mirabel crosses her legs. Leans forward.
"Then he won't come at all."
And Janelle gets off him.
Leaves him there. Throbbing. Desperate. Whining.
Final Round: Naya
"You thought you were in control," Mirabel tells her.
"You broke Janelle. But now look at you."
Naya's lips are parted, fingers twitching to touch herself.
Mirabel slaps her hands away.
"No touching."
Instead, she straps something on.
Janelle laughs softly. "Oh, she's really pulling that one out?"
Naya gasps when she sees the size.
"No prep," Mirabel says.
"You're always so confident. Take it."
And she shoves inside—hard, merciless, brutal.
Naya screams. Writhes. Cries.
But she takes it.
She takes it like a slut.
Like a toy.
Like she knows she deserves it.
Janelle kisses Mirabel mid-thrust, lips wet and moaning against hers.
"You're still mine," Mirabel breathes into her mouth.
Janelle moans back, "Only yours."
All three toys lie ruined on the floor.
Bodies used. Mouths sore. Holes stretched.
And only then do Mirabel and Janelle rise
holding hands heading for the stairs, leaving them behind.
"Come upstairs," Janelle whispers, "and break me next."
Mirabel smiles.
"Oh baby... with fucking pleasure."
---
To be continued