Worth It

by S. M. Shade

  Forceful roleplay for the ones who fake resistance and want a dark experience.

  Bound and gagged.

  Little Bow Beep. What the fuck is a Little Bow Beep?

  My question is answered, unfortunately, when a massive dildo is pulled out, and it has a bowtie at the bottom. My eyes widen when the thing beeps loudly, and vibrations start. That’s not little at all.

  “Whoa,” Henley whispers. “That escalated quickly.”

  Anderson tries to speak around the gag, his voice squeaky despite the muffled state of it.

  “Silence!” The woman barks again.

  “I kiiill you,” Lydia says from the ground, now heaving. She’s laughing so hard that she literally can’t actually make a sound as she flops around like a fish. Her face is turning red because she’s so silent and yet laughing.

  None of the guys in the room are moving. I think they’re all too stunned. Quickly, I go back to reading, panicking now.

  Anal play. *Applies to the client only. Our employees are not to be touched.

  Oh, no! No, no, no, no!

  If at any time the client wishes to stop, the safe word must be used. It’s Llama.

  “Llama!” I shout just as she starts tugging at Anderson’s boxers.

  Everyone turns to look at the window as I push it up, desperately trying to stop this before things go too far. Are they seriously just going to watch him get mauled by a vibrator? “Say llama!” I yell to Anderson. “It’s the safe word!”

  His eyes are wide and panicked, and all you can hear is a muffled, “Yama! Yama! Yama!”

  He’s going to fucking kill me.

  The woman frowns as the guys unclip the gag, and I drop down as Henley grabs Lydia’s arm, tugging her hard. It takes the both of us to pry her up from the ground before anyone catches up to us.

  Just as we round the corner, two strong arms clamp around my waist, hoisting me in the air, and I scream like the first whore to die in a slasher film.

  Loud laughter follows my scream, and I relax when I realize it’s Roman holding me. Whew. Made my throat sore for nothing. Guess he won’t be getting a blowjob now.

  Lydia sobers when she sees Davis and Roman, since Davis is eyeing us but trying hard not to laugh.

  “Llama?” Davis asks.

  “I didn’t pick the safe word,” I explain, still hanging over a shoulder.

  Roman drops me to my feet, and I turn toward Lydia.

  “Why the hell did you keep saying ‘I kill you’ back there?”

  “Jeff Dunham? Achmed? Silence, I kiiill you? It’s like his greatest piece of work ever,” Lydia says, then dissolves into a fit of giggles.

  Henley and I share confused looks, and the guys look equally confused.

  “You guys are so lame,” Lydia sighs, a big smile on her face. “But thanks; I needed the laugh.”

  She turns and skips—like, literally starts skipping—away. Well, that’s not creepy at all.

  “Care to explain why you ruined the strippers for us?” Roman drawls, but he doesn’t look the least bit disappointed.

  I grimace, because that so did not go the way I expected. Strippers don’t touch you, right? I mean, they do, but not like that.

  “Can we have this discussion far away from here? Like before Anderson gets on his clothes and comes to kill me?” I ask, wondering why he’s laughing at me.

  I’m serious. Anderson may actually hide my body after this one. I’m already missing most of one arm, so that makes dismemberment easier on him.

  He takes my hand, and I wave over my shoulder at Henley as Roman drags me toward the house. I’m practically running to keep up with his long strides.

  “I see you got robo arm back,” he notes, smiling down at me as we hurry through the house.

  “I did. I’m sleeping in your room tonight too, by the way.”

  “So you do want to see me, after all.”

  “You may be strong enough to keep Anderson from slitting my throat in my sleep.”

  He barks out a laugh. Again, I’m not being funny.

  “Why didn’t you try to stop it?” I hiss.

  “I would have. I was just trying to figure out how far they planned to take things.”

  “Too far is the answer,” I grumble.

  He laughs harder as he puts his arm around my waist, and we finally make it to his room. Where I will stay until it’s time to leave, because I’m seriously scared for my life. So far Jane, Mom, and Anderson want me dead. This could end up being a live episode of Clue.

  I can see the editorial pieces now: Monica in the ballroom with the wrench. Or Anderson in the pool house with the revolver. Or Jane in the study with the knife.

  My inner ramble is silenced when Roman decides to take my mind off everything, using his awesome mouth. I moan against his lips, happy for the distraction. When my hands come up to his shoulders, he breaks the kiss and steps back.

  “Jill has to go,” he says, eyeing my robo hand like it’s going to attack at any moment.

  “She’s good now. She hasn’t tried to molest me all day.”

  It’s weird that statement sounds like bragging rights.

  “Anything that can ‘accidentally’ crush my balls is not going to be near them.” He crosses his arms over his chest like he’s taking a stand.

  Laughing under my breath, I turn and start the tedious process of removing it all, unstrapping one section of the harness.

  “Fuck it. Just think happy thoughts,” he says, apparently too impatient to wait, and I grin as he spins me around and crushes his lips to mine again.

  Weirdest night ever.

  Just as we reach the bed, excitement hits me. “Aglets!” I say against his lips, grinning now as I kiss him.

  He pulls back, eyeing me like I’m crazy.

  “What?”

  “Aglets! Those are the plastic pieces on the shoe strings. I didn’t lose the brain space!”

  He shakes his head and kisses me again, silencing me once more. The second we drop to the bed, a loud scream pins us in place. The last time I heard that scream, Jill was fucking the floor like I was fucking Roman.

  Jill is on my arm. So why is Lydia—

  Another scream has Roman cursing, and we both dart through the bathroom.

  “What the hell?” I hear Lydia demanding.

  My feet skid to a halt right behind Roman, and my eyes widen as a seething Anderson scathes me with a murderous glare.

  “You!” he growls, pointing his finger at me just to make sure I know it’s me he’s here to kill.

  Roman moves to be a little more in front of me like he’s going to protect me. Awww.

  “Too fucking far this time, Kasha!” Anderson snarls.

  “Calm down. We can handle this in the morning—”

  “Stay out of it, Roman,” Anderson bites out, his eyes never leaving me. “That was my bachelor party, and that crazy bitch almost—”

  “I know!” I shout, groaning thereafter. “That was not what I was expecting. I swear I never would have paid for that. I’ll even throw you another bachelor party with pretty strippers who wear too much glitter. Let me fix this,” I say, honestly feeling like an ass.

  He relaxes a little. “I hate glitter,” he deadpans.

  Roman relaxes upon hearing that, and he shifts a little as Lydia swallows like she’s fighting to get a ball down her throat.

  Poor choice of words…

  “I also want them to dance and shit. No violence,” Anderson adds, mellowing much better than I thought.

  “Can do,” I tell him, smiling happily.

  I really thought this was going to be much worse.

  Roman’s phone rings in the other room, and he looks between us.

  “All good?” he asks me, casting a wary glance at Anderson.

  “All good,” I tell him.

  He looks between us one last time, before walking toward the other room. As soon as he’s out of sight, Anderson’s expression changes, and I suck in a breath just before he l
unges.

  Bruce Lee movies flick through my mind, and suddenly Jill shoots out, connecting with Anderson’s chest just in time. A painful grunt/yelp leaves his lips as he flies backwards and slams into the wall.

  “Holy shit! I’m a total badass!” I cheer, throwing my hands in the air like I’m Rocky Balboa. “I’m the bionic woman!”

  Roman rushes back in as Anderson heaves for air, clutching his chest. Hope I didn’t break anything.

  “The hell?” Roman snaps.

  “Anderson attacked!” Lydia tattles, reminding me she’s in the room and she’s actually pointing at Anderson like she’s five again and the playground bully is my stepbrother.

  “You were going to hit her?” Roman asks, an icy edge to his tone.

  “No, and fuck you. I’d never hit her, asshole.” Anderson coughs, wincing like he’s in pain. “I was going to give her a smelly feast.”

  Poor Roman looks so confused. That fucking dick stepbrother of mine needs another ass kicking.

  I go into my crouching-tiger, hidden-dragon stance, totally showing off my badassness.

  “Bring it!” I snap, ready now that I know I’m awesome. “Jill is loaded with thirty different combat styles.”

  It’s a total lie. But Anderson has no clue what my father has done with this arm. He pales a little.

  “That’s cheating!”

  “You can’t be a bully anymore, so fuck your smelly feast.”

  “What the hell is a smelly feast?” Roman groans.

  “It’s where Anderson holds her down and farts in her mouth,” Lydia says dryly. “It’s disgusting.”

  I shoot her a horrified glare. Now Roman will kiss me and think of fart breath from now on.

  Roman chokes back a laugh, shaking his head. “I… I can’t do this right now,” he says, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.

  Anderson narrows his eyes at me.

  “Hiiii-yaaa!” I say, slicing the air with Jill, then going back into my awesome, fuck-with-me-I-dare-you stance.

  Anderson rolls his eyes before slowly dragging himself to his feet.

  “You won’t have Jill on all the time.”

  “You won’t have sexy strippers at your make up party.”

  He bats his hand. “You really think I’d let you order my strippers ever again?”

  “Can you please get the hell out of my room now?” Lydia growls. “And don’t ever barge in again.”

  Anderson tenses, and he clears his throat without looking at her.

  “Right. I’m gone,” he says, walking away, still not looking in her direction.

  “It’s not over, sis,” he says just as he shuts the door.

  I slice the air again with Jill, even though he doesn’t see it. “I’m ready for you! I’ll make your smelly hole clench in fear!”

  I cringe when Roman doubles over, losing it. Yeah, he so can’t find me sexy anymore.

  When he straightens again, he motions for me to come to him with a come-hither finger move that sadly works for me. My feet move without any hesitation until I’m right up against him.

  “I hate being interrupted,” he says, bending and kissing me.

  I swoon like a dope, and he holds me to him as the obnoxious throat-clearing reminds us we have an audience.

  Roman snickers while breaking the kiss, but his expression sobers in less than a blink.

  “Jill has to go,” he says, gesturing to her charging port.

  “She doesn’t really have combat training,” I sigh.

  “Bye, Jill,” he quips, causing me to laugh.

  I should have hit Anderson harder for interrupting us. Next time.

  Yep. Next time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Henley

  “So, how much of a hand did you have in that?” Davis asks, dragging me away from the scene of the world’s worst bachelor party.

  I hold up my palms. “I had no idea what Kasha ordered.”

  “That would be a little more convincing if you could wipe that grin off your face.”

  “Probably not going to happen. The look on Anderson’s face when that vibrator was coming for him.” My sides ache as I crack up again. “Yama! Yama! I should get him a T-shirt made.”

  Davis chuckles, shaking his head. “I knew crazy Henley was still in there somewhere.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, leading me toward the house. “Since you and your friends sabotaged the bachelor party, it’s your responsibility to keep me entertained tonight.”

  I’ll entertain the fuck out of him. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Let me take you on a date.”

  A pang shoots through me like a hot dart at the realization we only have a couple of days left together before we head our separate ways again. I know the only reason I let myself get involved with him was because it would be temporary, but now it seems a little too temporary. It’s stupid to be upset about it. It could never be anything more even without the years and miles between us. I could never trust him not to run off on me again.

  Two days. We may as well have as much fun as we can. “Ice cream and Skee Ball?” I suggest, remembering the arcade we saw in town.

  “If that’s what you’d like to do,” he laughs, his dark eyes sparkling.

  We make a pit stop at Davis’s room so he can grab his wallet, then we’re off.

  What I dubbed an arcade is actually a family fun center complete with laser tag, mini golf, an array of inflatable bounce houses, and a pizza parlor, in addition to the arcade of games. “What would you like to do first?” he asks.

  “I could kick your ass at laser tag,” I boast, and he grins.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I almost feel sorry for how badly I’m going to beat you.” He pays and we get strapped into vests.

  While a young man fiddles with his vest, letting out the straps to fit over his wide chest, I can’t resist taking a quick shot. A piercing sound rings out and the vest lights up. The guy turns to give me an exasperated look, and Davis shakes his head, grinning. “Sorry, didn’t realize the safety was off.”

  “There’s no safety,” the guy growls.

  “Oh, guess it wasn’t my fault then.”

  A group of guys are going in with us, and we’re divided into teams by the color of our vests. Davis is on the yellow team while I’m on the red. “All right, boys, help me teach this guy a lesson,” I say, nodding to Davis.

  “Sorry, baby, but I’m going to have to wipe the floor with you,” Davis taunts.

  “No firing until the buzzer sounds,” the man in charge warns, shooting me a look. Geez, one little shot; you’d think I used a real bullet.

  We’re let into the arena, which is actually just a large room glowing with black lights. Partitions stand here and there, turning the area into a maze of obstacles. Everyone runs to find a good hiding spot, and a few seconds later, the buzzer sounds. My vest instantly lights up as I’m shot from behind by a guy who managed to climb his monkey ass up one of the partitions. Laughing, he’s just picking people off.

  Another member of my team crouches down beside me and grins. “Help me knock him down?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  While monkey boy is turned away, shooting away from us, we run at the partition, ramming into it, then shaking it with all our might. He topples at our feet and we both shoot his vest point-blank a few times, before my team member high-fives me and darts off on his own.

  Now, I have to find Davis.

  It’s hard to make out who is who from any significant distance. The only way I know who to shoot is to aim for the yellow vests. I trade fire with a couple of yellow vests before finding the one I’m looking for. Davis is crouched down, facing away from me, and it’s all I can do not to giggle as I sneak up behind him. Just as I start to aim for him, he turns and fires, laughing his ass off.

  The asshole was using his phone camera to watch behind him. “You cheater!” I cry, tackling him.

  He lets out an oomph as I land on his stomach, and his arms wrap around me. �
��You’re just mad because I’m winning,” he taunts, before slamming his lips to mine.

  My body softens into his and I succumb to the amazing way his kisses always make me feel. As usual, the world around me shrinks to nothing, and we lie there, making out like a couple of high school kids while the battle rages around us.

  When we finally break apart, I notice the time clock projected onto the ceiling is almost at zero. I press my lips softly to his again, and shoot him in the chest. His vest flashes and I get to my feet, darting away before he can get me back. If I can shoot him one more time, we’ll at least end in a tie.

  Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who sees time is running out. As the last seconds count down, Davis runs to the door, zigzagging, and steps through it just as the buzzer sounds, ending the game. Damn it. “No fair!” I yell, exiting the arena. “The buzzer hadn’t sounded! Premature evacuation!”

  Davis stands just outside the door when I emerge, and the sight of him laughing at me is tempered by how gorgeous he looks with sweat pasting his hair to his forehead, a smirk on his face. “I won,” he gloats, stripping off the vest.

  “Your team won,” I correct. Petty? Yep. I hate to lose.

  “Which means I won.”

  “You won because one of those asswipes climbed up on a wall and kept shooting us.”

  The asswipe in question waves, laughing with his buddies.

  “Do you want a rematch?”

  “No,” I grumble. “I want to kick your ass at something else.”

  Still chuckling, Davis grabs my hand and we head to the arcade. “Skee ball?” he suggests.

  “Only if you really want your ass handed to you.”

  “I believe I’ve heard that before. Maybe right before I beat you at laser tag.”

  Fine. He’s asking for it. “Care to make it interesting then?”

  His eyebrows reach for the sky. “You want to make a wager?” He stands behind me, and his arms snake around my waist. “What did you have in mind?”

  “If I win, you’re my slave for the day. You have to do whatever I tell you to tomorrow.”

  “Are we talking sexual favors?”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on making you clean my room.”

  “And if I win, you’re my slave for the day?”