Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
My mind’s still in that warehouse. For a little while, my life felt right. It was like the world clicked into place and made sense when Jackal tied my wrists behind my back and sucked my nipples. I had the best orgasm of my entire life, and I swear I can still feel that huge toy between my legs, but mostly I hear his voice in my ear, calling me pretty, telling me how good I look and how much he wants me.
It’s distracting. I can’t remember the last time I struggled with a piece, but this new jackal ear I’m making won’t come out right. The lines are wrong and the silhouette isn’t matching what I have in my head, and I can’t seem to figure out how to fix it.
All because I’m dick obsessed.
No—I’m game obsessed. I haven’t even felt any dick yet. Just a huge rubber one.
I don’t know what to do with myself. And to make it all worse, I keep coming back to those last moments we had, sitting side by side on the blanket alone in that warehouse, our shoulders touching, my body still tingling from the aftereffects of the orgasm.
I opened up to him. And I swear, he wanted to open up to me, but something stopped him and I don’t know what. It was like he bounced off whatever was in his head and it made him run away, and I want to understand why.
Except that isn’t how our relationship works. It’s supposed to be all about this game—so why do I want to talk to him?
I end up pouring myself a glass of wine at two in the afternoon. I’m dusty with rock debris and frustrated from a bad morning of subpar work, and I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of this funk.
When I look at my phone and make a decision.
I can sit around wondering all I want, or I can just do what feels good.
I’m not sure if this will work, but I open up my messages and find the texts from Jackal. I type and hit send, stomach a butterfly mess, and take a few sips of wine to calm myself.
Laura: I keep thinking about you. It’s a real problem.
Jackal: Is that why you’re drinking so early in the day?
I smile to myself and look over at the living room camera. It must be able to just barely spot me. I raise my glass.
Laura: Cheers to having the biggest rubber dick imaginable deep inside of me last night.
Jackal: I could get bigger, if you like.
I laugh to myself, because he probably could. I type a response, feeling a little cheeky.
Laura: How about we stick with normal, human sizes? Like yours, for example.
Jackal: What about mine?
Laura: I notice that so far, you haven’t gotten much out of our games.
Jackal: You’re very wrong about that. Maybe I haven’t gotten off, but playing with you is even better.
Laura: I don’t know. There’s something about an old-fashioned orgasm that just hits the spot.
I’m grinning to myself and feeling like an idiot as I shamelessly flirt with him via text, but I like this. I’ve spent so long locked away in my basement afraid to live outside my own minuscule world, and now I want to take some risks. Not just the playtime risks either—but emotional risks, ones which might leave me regretting everything I’ve ever done, or might take me places I’ve never explored before.
Jackal: I’m happy to find out if you’re offering.
Laura: No, I don’t think so. You seem too eager.
Jackal: I feel like that’s a challenge.
Laura: It could be. How about this: if you can make it inside of my house tonight, I’ll get you off, however you want.
A shiver and a thrill run into my core at the thought of Jackal inside my private space. There’s no way in hell he could break into the oasis, which is why I feel safe making that offer, but I like the idea of him using me to get off. Any way he wants: my mouth, my pussy, even my ass if that’s what he’s into. I’m willing, except it doesn’t matter.
Jackal: Now that’s definitely a challenge.
Laura: Just saying. You can come in my mouth, or between my legs, or on my tits. Or maybe on my face? You can come on my ass, and then I’ll lick it off your fingers. Whatever you want.
I’ve never talked this way to anyone in my life and I feel absolutely filthy and incredible as I hit send. I can only imagine his reaction. Which is hard, considering I don’t know what his face looks like. I have a vague idea from last night, but nothing concrete. Strong jaw, stubble on his chin, a normal-sized nose, sharp cheekbones. But without seeing him, those are just general features.