NOVA POV
"It’s high ti you joined us, Nymph. Your uniform is waiting."
Grant’s voice slashed through the air like a whip, and my heart dropped so hard it might as well have cracked against my ribs.
Fuck. He’d already seen .
Play it cool? Pretend I just stumbled in?
Or bolt like hell and pray I can outrun the heat that burns every ti he looks at ?
I didn’t move. My ass stayed rooted to the floor like they had their own death wish. The won in the room, all beautiful and silent, draped over each other in those too-perfect poses, turned their eyes on .
Their eyes with expressions ranging from desire to Curiosity and Hunger. They looked at the way a wolf pack sizes up fresh at.
And I, the idiot that I am, stepped forward.
Each step felt like a confession, like announcing to the whole damn room: Yes, I’m the fool who can’t keep away from Grant, even when I swore I would. Yes, I’m about to regret this.
The uniform lay waiting on a chair, perfectly folded. A trap disguised as silk.
"Strip her," Grant said. His voice was low, gravel dragged across velvet, and it went straight through .
They were on before I could blink. Hands everywhere; pulling, tugging, peeling out of my shorts, my thin sleep top and I felt out of my skin. They left naked, stripped bare in a heartbeat.
My chest rose fast in sharp gasps, and I instinctively dragged a hand across my stomach up to my breasts, trying to cover myself.
"Hands behind your back."
The command sliced through my panic. His tone was authoritative and unrelenting, it lit sothing inside . My pussy throbbed like it had a mind of its own, and I obeyed. Always, fucking always, I obeyed him.
Grant approached slowly, like a predator circling his prey. He didn’t even need to touch , the weight of his stare was enough to pin in place. He looked at like I was sothing bought, sothing owned, and I hated how much my body lit up under that gaze.
I wanted to sneer, to mock, to spit at his shoes. Instead, I smiled just a flicker, quick enough to swallow back down. He didn’t know how happy I felt about this mont.
In my head, a stupid fantasy played out: him in so ridiculous powdered-wig founding father get-up, dragging around on a leash, whipping into obedience. The thought made my nipples harden instantly, traitorous as ever.
And then, crack.
The whip licked across my skin, right under my breast. I gasped, the sting hot and sharp, and instead of retreating, I arched into it.
Lucky. That’s what I was. Lucky that it was him.
I’d read stories of Doms who bored their subs to tears, who got drunk on power but had no artistry in their cruelty. Grant was not that. Every strike, every order, every calculated silence it’s a testant of the fact that he was perfect.
And that perfection was going to ruin
The whip traced circles in the air, humming low, cruel, like it wanted to beg for another taste. He stalked around , boots heavy against the floor, slow enough to make my skin crawl with anticipation.
Every nerve in was screaming: Where will he hit next?
My breasts tightened, my pussy clenched, and I hated—hated—how addicted I’d beco to that uncertainty.
"You’re trembling, Nymph," Grant observed, voice smooth as silk. "Is it fear?"
I wanted to laugh, wanted to say Fuck you, Daddy, say anything naughty that will get be punished But all that ca out was a shaky exhale, and my stupid body betrayed , nipples so hard they ached, thighs pressed together like I was trying to hide how wet I already was.
He noticed, of course. Grant always noticed.
"Pathetic little thing," he murmured, tilting his head, whip dangling from his fingers. "A single strike and you’re dripping."
And just like that another crack.
This ti the whip kissed the side of my thigh, sharp enough to burn. I jolted, a gasp ripping out of , my knees nearly buckling. But my cunt throbbed harder, slickness threatening to slide down my leg, and the humiliation that is more pleasurable than anything I’ve ever experienced only made it worse.
"Lucky ," I whispered before I could stop myself, breathless and delirious.
Grant’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into sothing between amusent and warning. "You think this is luck?"
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not when his shadow was looming so close, not when every cell in my body was strung tight like a violin waiting for him to play.
He let the silence stretch, cruel, deliberate. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he turned his attention away from , onto one of the won standing near the edge of the room.
Crack.
The whip lashed across her thigh. She moaned, loud, eager, stepping forward like she wanted to eat the sting straight out of the leather.
My chest burned. Was it jealousy? No. It couldn’t be jealousy. That would an I cared if his attention drifted. And I didn’t. Except I did. My nails dug crescents into my palms as the woman panted under his gaze, as if she’d stolen sothing ant for .
"Back." His single command sent her retreating instantly, pleasure and longing mingling in her eyes. He turned back to , and the world shrank again.
"Spread your legs," he ordered, calm and absolute. "Show Daddy how wet his shaless little slut is."
"Yes, Daddy."
The words slipped out before I even thought of them. Obedience tasted dirty on my tongue, but it also tasted right.
I spread wide. Humiliation seared as the wetness slid thick down my inner thigh, gleaming under the room’s low lights. His gaze dropped there, sharp and consuming, and my cunt clenched hard at the way he just...stared.
"You. Number Two." He didn’t look away from when he gave the command. "Lick her until she cos."
The woman dropped to her knees like she’d been waiting her whole life for this chance.
My breath hitched. I’ve never been with a girl. No. Not like this I’ve never felt any attraction for my gender.
Then, her mouth was on .
Hot, greedy, relentless. She licked like she was dying of thirst and I was the only thing that could save her. My knees buckled, my hips bucked, and I grabbed at her hair instinctively, needing sothing to anchor .
"Not a sound," Grant snapped. "Hands off her. Or I’ll gag you and tie you to the ceiling beams."
The sharpness of his tone speared straight to my cunt. My hands froze mid-motion before they were yanked roughly behind my back, cuffed in cold steel. My pulse spiked.
Fuck. Handcuffs.
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let him lock up again, promised myself I’d never give him that kind of control. And yet here I was, wrists burning, blindfold sliding down over my eyes a mont later.
The world went dark.
Now it was just touch, sound, the thunder of my pulse. The woman’s tongue lashed and teased, her lips sucking, her teeth grazing just enough to make squirm. My legs shook so badly I thought they’d collapse.
And through it all Grant’s presence behind was unbearable. Heavy. Electric. My skin prickled with awareness, waiting for the whip, waiting for his next move.
A slow drag of his fingers up my spine made gasp. I leaned back into him without aning to, blind and desperate, my body betraying over and over.
"Mmm," he humd against my ear, voice dangerous and amused. "So needy. And you don’t even know what cos next."
The words made wetter. Of course they did. I was nothing but a live wire under him, twitching, begging for current.
Then a new intrusion.
A finger slid into my ass, firm and unyielding.
I jerked forward with a strangled gasp, straight onto the woman’s mouth. She moaned into my cunt like she’d been waiting for to break, devouring harder, her tongue everywhere at once.
Grant’s hand wrapped around my throat, light but unshakable. "Stay still," he warned, the command sinking into my bones. "Or I’ll decide how still you should be."
I whimpered, back arched, my pussy flooding onto the tongue between my legs. The blindfold turned the room into a blur of sound. My own ragged breathing, the obscene wet slurps of the woman lapping , the low hum of Grant’s satisfied approval.
It was too much. And not enough.
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