Her daily list was written on a page torn from the scratch pad Sir kept on the refrigerator door, the written orders awaiting her at their usual haunt atop the kitchen counter.
Pouring her coffee, she yawned, silently cursing how early it was.
Truthfully, eight o’clock in the morning wasn’t a particularly early start, all things considered. But to a college girl, that sort of hour might as well be three in the morning.
She was a zombie.
So much had changed, both inside her, and with her relationship with Sir.
And that evolution was continuing.
She rubbed her ass through the threadbare cotton of her warm-ups. Sir had spanked hard last night, and she’d spent longer than she could ever remember sobbing in the corner as she displayed herself on the Bad Girl stool.
She deserved it, and her heart twisted as she remembered her defiance, her petulance at being called on the carpet about how far behind she’d fallen in Econ.
He’d promised he’d get her back to where she needed to be.
Which started with a red, swollen, and burning bottom.
Finishing the night cradled in his arms, her aching, desperate pussy drooling onto the sheets, Sir’s sticky seed leaking out of her stretched bottom hole, she’d wondered—and worried, a little bit—about what might be in store for her the next morning.
It seemed her anxiousness was well placed.
He wasn’t nearly done with her.
Lists were a common feature of her life now, and she’d come to—mostly—welcome them. Even she could see how much she’d blossomed under his strict management of her.
Still, just a glance at this morning’s missive—and the obvious length of it—told her this wasn’t going to be just a couple of items to check off during her lazy day alone at home.
When she gingerly removed the heavy plug from atop the list, she tried not to think about what his choice there implied for her upcoming day.
As she read what he’d written, her heart in her throat, stomach sinking—even while heat suddenly blazed like a furnace between her legs—she’d instantly forgotten how tired she was.
The following are to be completed before I get home from work today. Be ready for an inspection and review of your work. You will give it your best.
- Edge. 5 minimum. Text pic of your kitty afterward.
- Clean living room, master bathroom, and kitchen. White glove, or else.
- Complete your Econ project. I’ll be going over it tonight.
- Treadmill for 45 minutes. 3 mph minimum.
- 10 x Devotionals. Naked, plug in your bottom. Text pic afterward, with plug still in.
- Journal. Clamps on while you’re writing. 1000 words minimum. Text pic of tits afterward.
- Dinner ready, and on the table by 6:00 p.m.
Be a good girl for me, and work hard.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “How am I going to do all of it?”
She was already panicking, but there was nothing to do but get started.
Grabbing her mug, she quickly padded out to the living room.
Sir liked her to feel extra exposed when she edged, so she was usually ordered to do it on the couch, in broad daylight, the big picture windows letting the morning light pour in over her.
Despite how embarrassing it was, she hoped he’d be pleased she’d done it there without him specifically requesting it.
Dropping her warm-ups—she hadn’t worn panties in weeks now—she kicked them off. Sitting down on the couch, she hiked up the old t-shirt she’d borrowed from Sir’s drawer, exposing her breasts.
Tits were to always be out when she edged. Another one of his many rules for her.
As she laid back, spreading her thighs wide, and sinking two fingers knuckle deep in her pussy, she just hoped she didn’t get any early morning visitors before her task was complete.
Twelve months earlier
“Whatcha doin’?” the familiar voice rang out.
Max banged his forehead on the differential, and he dropped his ratchet, the tool clanging against the axle housing and clattering to the floor.
The slow cadence of heels upon the concrete got louder as they drew near.
He slid out from under the truck, his hand pressed to his head. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Kelsey grinned down at him, her blonde hair caught in a single ponytail, gleaming in the sunlight as she leaned an elbow against the fender.
“Sorry, Uncle Max!”
“Stop calling me that,” he rumbled, pulling himself to his feet.
She sighed. “Okay… Max.”
A bead of sweat ran into his eye, stinging. It had been a mistake to leave the door rolled up; the unseasonable September heat had turned his garage into an oven.
“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in class, or something? It’s like, eleven.”
“Professor Henries let us out early today.” She leaned under the open hood, peering down at the engine, the white tank top she was wearing revealing a lot more of her cleavage than it should have.
And leaving him noticing it a helluva lot more than he should have as well.
“You figure out what’s wrong with it, yet?”
“Starter solenoid.” He scrubbed the grease from his knuckles with a rag, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Replaced it.”
He used the heel of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow before it dripped even more into his eyes.
“Oh, great!” She pushed herself away from the truck, and walked around to the front, hands plunged into the back pockets of cut-off jean shorts that were… a lot shorter than he liked.
“Don’t you think that’s”—he waved the rag toward her in an up and down motion—“a little much?”
“Thank you for noticing,” she beamed, twirling.
“That’s not what I meant, Kelsey.” He gave her a pointed look downward. “Heels, too?”
She bent her leg, wiggling one of the high heels in the air. “Aren’t they cute?”
“That wasn’t the first word that came to mind, no.”
Those legs were a lot longer and a lot tanner than he had any fucking business noting.
It had started almost immediately during her freshman year in university. He’d delicately mentioned it to Mitchell more than once, lamenting the brazen flirtiness of the girl—who happened to be his best friend’s daughter.
Mitchell had always laughed it off though. “She’s in college, dude. They always flirt with older men. I think it’s in their DNA. Something about needing male attention. It’s just a phase though. Harmless. She’ll grow out of it.”
The problem was Mitchell had been wrong. She hadn’t grown out of it—at all.
And in the intervening couple of years, it had gotten worse.
“It’s fine!” Kelsey said, canting her hip. “I’m not wearing anything I wouldn’t wear on a normal scorching ass day.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Max said, scrubbing his face with his palm.
“You sound just like my dad.”
“Somebody has to, apparently.”
Just like somebody had to fix her truck for her too, since her dad had managed to get himself a promotion halfway around the world.
He was irritated at having to even note it with the girl, but with Mitchell all the way over in London, Max didn’t have a choice but to tell Kelsey to dial back the slutty just a little bit.
It was probably a doomed mission, the incorrigible twenty-year-old not being known for listening to, well, really anything the men in her life told her.
“You never answered my question.”
“What question?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
“Why are you here?”
She studied him for a moment, her painted nails drumming against her pocket. “I… have something I want to ask you.”
She giggled. “It’s not bad! I mean… I don’t think it is.”
“Would your father like it?”
“Then it’s bad.”
“God, men!” she said, pressing her hands to her head.
The tank top rode up, exposing the flat, firm, tanned belly. And the silver ring through her navel.
He strode into the garage, looking for something—anything—to distract him. Getting her to go find something else to do was of paramount importance at that moment.
“Wait!” The clacking of her heels followed him. “Just hear me out, okay? You’ll see—it’s no big deal at all.”
“That’s what everyone always says,” he muttered, sorting through the tools in the top drawer of his bench, completely forgetting what he was looking for. “Just before delivering a really big fucking deal.”
“Are you even listening to me, Uncle—Max?”
“Maybe,” he said, opening the next drawer down.
Depriving Kelsey of active attention was actually the best of his options. The problem was it often took a while for it to take.
“There’s going to be a function on Saturday night. At the sorority—”
He spun on his heel, pointing a screwdriver at her. “No.”
“What? Why? You didn’t even hear what it is!”
“Nothing good ever begins with that combination of words, Kelsey.”
“It’s…” She stood aside as he walked by her—but not enough.
He swore she brushed the soft swell of her breasts against him as he slipped past her.
This is… not good.
“It’s not going to happen, Kels.”
“Please, just listen? Please?”
He groaned. “Fine. Okay. Just… I’m probably gonna say no.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Look, this thing. It’s a really important event for us. A fundraiser.”
He wasn’t, not really. But she didn’t have to know that.
“Ugh! Stop! Listen, Uncle Max.”
“Go ahead.” Crossing his arms, he leaned a shoulder against the passenger side door of the truck. “I’m listening.”
“It’s—keep an open mind on this, okay? It’s an auction.”
“Okay, so what. Heirlooms? Football tickets? What kind of auction?”
She nibbled the corner of her lip. “A… bachelor auction.”
“A… a what?”
She smiled winningly, holding out a hand, palm up. “You know, bachelors. Single dudes.”
“I’m not—I don’t get it. Like these guys do… what?”
She winked. “Stand up in front of all the girls and look hot as fuck?”
“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” She bounced in place as she laughed though.
He didn’t want to notice that either.
“Well… kinda kidding. A little.”
He shrugged. “So, what do you need from me again?”
“God, it’s so cute when you do that.”
“That. You know, playing dumb with me.”
“I’m not playing at all with you, Kels.” He walked up to the front of the truck again, laying a hand on the hood, his back to her, trying to look busy. Or something.
“So… what do you think?”
“Think about what?”
“I want you to enter it. The auction, I mean.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. Then he slammed the hood closed. “Let me see if I understand this.” He wiped off his hands with the rag again, even though his fingers were already clean. “You want me—me—to be in your little… bachelor auction?”
“Yes. It’ll be so fun!”
“Of course! Will you do it?” She flashed the million-watt, gorgeous smile they both knew he could hardly ever resist. “Please, Uncle Max! It would make me so happy!”
But he had no choice but to resist it. “Not just no, but hell to the no.”
“Why not?” She strode toward him, and he found himself backing away a step, keeping his distance. “It’s just a little auction thing. We’ll bid on the bachelors, money will get raised, and that’s it. Mostly.”
“Mostly? And who’s this we?”
“Well, we—like, the girls. All of us in the house will get to bid, if we want.”
“And that includes… you?”
She nodded, a splash of color high in her cheeks. “I was maybe going to…”
“Nope. No way.”
She blew out a breath, frowning. “Look, if you think it’s because you’re, I don’t know—old, or something?”
“No, I mean. Trust me, that is not an issue. A couple of the girls—well, I showed them your picture. They were like… okay, God, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Yeah, probably don’t tell me—”
“They were totally drooling over you.”
“I’m forty years old, Kels.”
She arched a brow. “That just makes the drooling worse. Dirty whores.”
“Dear Lord, help me.”
She giggled loudly. “And I was like back off, bitches, that’s my uncle Max!”
“Kelsey. I told you—stop that.”
“Sorry, sorry!” She held up her hands. “Anyway, that’s not important. What is important is that you be there, in the auction. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when you—”
“Absolutely not. That’s final, Kelsey.”
“What? I thought… it’ll be so much fun. Max?”
“No.” He dropped the rag on the hood, taking a breath. “You’re gonna have to find another bachelor.”
She frowned then, and looked every bit the thwarted, spoiled girl. With a heavy sigh that moved things in a way he shouldn’t have noticed, she headed for the rolled-up garage door.
“Okay, I’ll just—I guess I’ll give ‘em the bad news. Fuck.”
He thought she was going to walk past him then, but she stopped, close, and laid a hand on his arm. “Will you… will you at least think about it? I don’t have to enter the names until Friday. Still a few days. Just think about it?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “For me?”
He ground his teeth, but nodded. “I will, but I’m positive the answer isn’t going to be any different by Friday.”
She beamed once more. “But you will think about it?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” He waved toward the door. “Now, get outta here, I need to finish up on your rig. Go… do something.”
“Awesome!” She clapped her hands together. “See you, Uncle Max!”
Then she was gone, leaving only the scent of her perfume in her wake.
Something else you need to stop fucking noticing!
There was no way in hell he was even going to consider it, but maybe in the next few days she’d be able to find someone else, and she’d forget about the entire stupid idea.
While he didn’t want to admit it, he was shocked—and a little flattered—that the girls in her sorority seemed to want him to be in the auction. Or Kelsey was just blowing smoke up his ass to get her way.
An equally likely possibility if he were honest with himself.
“Fucking college kids,” he muttered, opening the driver’s side door and reaching in to pop the hood once more.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out. It was a text, with a picture.
“Weird,” he murmured, opening it up.
Then he almost dropped his phone.
The picture was of a woman’s panties.
It wasn’t just panties either. They were white cotton panties, pulled up, very tightly, against a plump sex. The panties left zero to the imagination, and the picture was zoomed in quite close. The fabric dove in between the close-seamed labia, clearly delineating every curve and crevice and shape of a very lovely pussy. He remembered seeing the vulgar term for it—‘camel toe.’
Whatever one wanted to call it, his cock was hard, instantly. And then he saw the number.
“What… the fuck?”
But it got much worse—when he read the message accompanying it.
Wonder what you’ll be thinking of when you see this. God, I’d love to know.
His heart was pounding suddenly. It was—he didn’t know what it was. Did he reply back? Play dumb? Was she—?
His phone buzzed once more. A text only this time, from Kelsey again.
OMG! That was meant for someone else. Sorry!
That had him cursing again under his breath, and he hit the call back immediately.
She picked up before the second ring.
“Hello? Uncle Ma—?”
“Well, that was… I don’t know what that was. You want to, uh, enlighten me?”
“It was totally an accident.”
“Who was that supposed to be for? Why are you sending pics of chick’s… you know whats?”
She giggled. “It’s not just some chick’s pu—thing. Oh, fuck, never mind. It’s not a big deal, okay? My mistake.”
“What do you mean? Do you know this person? Do they know you’re send—”
“Yes, I know them, Max. Very well.”
She giggled again, but it wasn’t out of nervousness or bashfulness. Not at all.
What the fuck is going on here?
“Then, uh, who is it?”
She didn’t reply.
“Wait… this isn’t. That isn’t… you, is it?”
Kelsey laughed then, rich mischief in her voice, as she sing-songed her reply. “A girl never tells.”
“Look, I don’t even care. I don’t need to know.”
But that was a damned lie. Which was itself wrong, on several levels.
“No prob! Just a screw-up. Sorry again. See ya, Uncle Max!”
Then he hung up, taking a deep breath, adjusting his still very hard cock in the confines of his jeans.
“The last thing you need to be fucking doing is popping a goddamn Woodrow right now, Max. What the fuck, dude!”
He threw his phone down on the driver’s side seat, running both his hands through his sweaty hair.
She was going to drive him to an early fucking grave.
Then his phone buzzed once more.
For reasons he didn’t understand, he knew he didn’t want to pick up that phone and see what it said. This was so awkward already, all he wanted to do was go inside and have a beer—or ten. And try to forget about what had just happened.
Even if his cock had no intention of doing so anytime soon.
“Get it over with, asshole.”
He plucked the phone from the seat, and read the text.
It was from Kelsey.
So… are you still convinced you don’t want to be in the bachelor’s auction?