Bonjour from my pretty city!

Well, I'm very glad that you all seemed to enjoy my boy's last chapter; he is a damaged, complex wee soul, isn't he? Oddly, so much of him is based on me, but however hard I am on myself, I adore him. Strange, huh?

Just to let you all know again that the haven was deleted by Facebook. If you want to join the new group, that a harpy kindly set up for us, please pm me on fb, .182, and I will add you. Mwah.


Someone raised the point that I had said previously that a dominant will never deliberately hurt a submissive in ways outside of their limits lists. This is true, BUT this isn't a knitting circle. This is the world of BDSM, and when Carlisle performed unlubricated anal sex on Edward, it wasn't to hurt him. Not at all. The condom was lubed, and he used his fingers to prepare him first, and although it was painful, it wasn't excruciating. It was used simply to make Edward focus and to remember his place and roll. He is still a trainee dominant AND submissive, and his Master and Mistress have to find a way to ensure that Edward doesn't over step the mark. He has to remember that he is still their possession, and as such, they can do whatever they want, within his limits, to his body. I hope this makes some semblance of sense!

As ever, I don't own Twilight, the glossy lipped Ms Meyer does. I do, however, own all unique characters, the plot line, some sexy new underwear, two new Alice in Wonderland mugs, and everything else I write. So there!

Thank you to Rima200, Laura Mars, Joyce Anderson and Angela Wilson for all your love, care, support and help. Without you girlies, my story wouldn't make me such a happy little bunny. Hugs and squeezes.

London is cooling down a bit and autumn is finally nipping at our heels. The trees are on the turn and the mornings are misty and heavy with moisture, but it is as beautiful as ever. And for once, we can't complain that we haven't had the perfect summer, because we really have.

Now, please brace yourself. The next few chapters get harder, regarding both BDSM and the boy's emotions, and will be quite difficult to cope with, but please don't hate me, or Edward. It has to be done. All will be revealed in the next few chapters. Remember, our boy has to be totally and utterly broken before he can become the ostensibly cold, hollow man that Bella meets, and helps to thaw out. Although, I think we all know that with the way he is with his elderly employees, not to mention the cats and foxes, he's really as soft as shit inside but bless him, he can't see it.

PLEASE remember that BDSM isn't all sweetness and light. It can be tender, but in the main, it's base, raw and downright filthy, and it gives those involved what they both want and need. I intend for my story to show that what one person loves, someone else would blanch at and feel positively ill! So, ENJOY!

Get yourself a cup of tea, and perhaps a nice slice of shortbread, put your feet up and get ready to see what he gets up to next!

Mwah x



You bring me right back down to the Earth from the Promised Land
We're getting close to the centre of the Earth with an honest plan.
You'll never be your mother or your father do you understand?
Until you understand!

We don't have too much time here, and time it travels far too fast!
We're not too far we're too near, before they take it from our hands!

Why don't you teach your heart to feel, and give your love love,
Give your love love and give it all away;

Why don't you teach your heart to talk and give your love love,
Give your love love.
Gimme, gimme what I need.

We'll take you right back down to the Earth from the Motherland,
This is a first-class journey from the gods to the son of man.
You're at the gates of human evolution don't you understand?
Why don't you understand [understand]?

We don't have too much time here, and time it travels far too fast!
We're not too far we're too near, before they take it from our hands!

Why don't you teach your heart to feel, and give your love love,
Give your love love, give it all away.
Why don't you teach your heart to talk and give your love love,
Give your love love and give it all away.

Why don't you teach your heart to feel, and give your love love,
Give your love love, give it all away.
Why don't you teach your heart to talk and give your love love,
Give your love love,
Gimme, gimme what I need.

We don't have too much time here, and time it travels far too fast!

We're not too far we're too near, before they take it from our hands!

Why don't you teach your heart to feel, and give your love love,
Give your love love, give it all away.
Why don't you teach your heart to talk and give your love love,
Give your love love, give it all away.
Why don't you teach your heart to feel, and give your love love,
Give your love love, give it all away.
Why don't you teach your heart to talk and give your love love,
Give your love love.
Gimme, gimme what I need.


"That isn't a request, Edward," she says, firmly. "If you want us to train you, your ultimate dominance will reflect on us, so you have to be the best of the best. Do you understand me? You do know that I still own every part of you, don't you? And this is a direct order, it is not a request, so you will do as I have said. Won't you?"

"Yes …" I sigh. "You do know that I fuck someone else in between our sessions together, don't you?" I ask.

"Yes, I know that, but for the next thirteen days, you are not to touch, kiss, finger, lick or fuck ANYONE. You aren't to masturbate or use a dildo to get anyone else off. You are to wear a large butt plug for at least three hours every day, and if you cum, I WILL know. Don't even think about going against my wishes. Do you understand me?"

I don't answer her. Instead, I stand and stare as she rummages around in a drawer and hands me a large piece of shocking red rubber.

"Edward, respond," she says, handing the heavy plug to me.

"Yes, Mistress …" I say, quietly.

"Good. And when you return to us, in fourteen long, painful days, with blue balls and a nicely stretched arse hole, Edward," Katy continues, "You are to fuck, or be fucked by all three of us, until we cum. And then, and only then, we might—and there is no guarantee that you will be allowed to—let you orgasm. Do you understand me?"


How in the name of fuck am I meant to explain THAT to Henrietta?

After drinking a large bottle of water, I take a long soak in Carlisle's bath. My bum hurts from the lube-free fucking, and although the condom was sticky, it wasn't enough to stop me feeling like I have fucking friction burns of the back passage. Katy knew that I would be sore, hence telling me to wallow in arnica infused hot water, whilst Carlisle massages my head, neck and shoulders. She sits on a stool at the other end of the bath, massaging my feet and we talk and laugh as they look after my physical needs.

"Drink some more water," Katy insist as he hands me another large bottle. "It will help your body to recover, it was pretty intense in there." She passes me another glass, containing a fizzing vitamin C tablet. "You sweated a huge amount in the dungeon, love and you must be aching now, drink it," she orders as I curl my lip. "How are you feeling now?"

"Tired," I say, honestly, "and you're right, I do ache a bit. My arm is throbbing. Impact play takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" I ask. Nodding, she smiles at me. "But I really enjoyed the scene. I'm just surprised that it was such hard work. Trying to perform, sexually, and physically, whilst making sure that Milly's circulation and breathing were okay, as well as ensuring that she was enjoying herself, was much more demanding than I had expected it to be. I suppose, stupidly, I thought you would grab a crop or whip and just go with it. But it's very different when you have to punish someone, isn't it? Is it always like that?"

"Yes," Katy says, simply. "It is. It's hard work, but I find it very enjoyable. I like to find new ways to torture, tease and tempt a submissive, and even walking through the park, finding a birch twig or a discarded piece of rubber can add to a scene. I like to keep things new and fresh. So, for me, the planning, preparation and anticipation of a scene has always been the most satisfying part of our lifestyle. I love the way that I can control another person's enjoyment, every bit as much as my own. I adore the precision with which I can wield a cane or stick. And, I think I'm pretty good at it … don't you agree, Carlisle?" she asks. Then she turns and smiles at her husband.

"Yes, I think that you can use impact tools better than anyone else I've ever known, Katy. You spank harder than any man, and Christ, I'm surprised that I haven't still got the scars to prove it! When we were training, Edward," he says, without any trace of humour, "Katy used to leave me like a tenderised piece of steak! I couldn't fucking walk for days when she was learning to use her favourite cane! She never let me flog or whip her, oh no, I was always her little whipping boy!" he says, as they both chuckle. I don't comment because I've seen her in action, so I don't doubt that it was a painful time for Carlisle. "Anyway, she must have done something right because I agreed to marry her the second time she asked me," he finishes.

She proposed to him?

Why doesn't that surprise me?

"So do you feel the same?" I ask.

"About what?" Carlisle asks, as he continues soaping my neck and shoulders.

"That the planning is the most important thing about the lifestyle?"

"Oh no, not at all, Edward," Carlisle says, before he starts chuckling. "It's vital, obviously, but for me, the physical act is every bit as important as the planning. But my wife has always liked the buying and organising of equipment and researching more than the sexual intercourse, during a scene. It's different when we're on our married time, obviously, but during a scene, Katy is usually happier to stand back and direct the proceedings. That's why we work so well together, we both have different skills and specialities."

"And wants and needs …" Katy says, before she once more smiles at her husband, tenderly.

"Yes …" he says, quietly. "We do, angel, we do."

We chat for a while about the scene and they're both thrilled with the way that my dominant training is progressing.

"I think," Carlisle begins, as he massages shampoo into my scalp, "that we all have to be honest and admit that you haven't got a submissive bone in your body, my darling boy."

"I have tried …" I protest, weakly.

"Oh, love, I know that you've tried, but the defiance has never left your eyes and no matter how hard we've punished you and pushed you, it still doesn't work. You aren't even a switch, my darling. You know this as much as we do," he continues. "So, although you still belong to us, Katy and I have decided that from now on, your submissive duties will be far less than your trainee dominant duties will be. You are still officially our submissive, and we will play with you in public but for the time being, you will be a trainee switch. This will help you focus your mind and remember to think—hopefully—before you speak. How you behave in either of your roles is a reflection on us and our trainee abilities, so don't let us down," he reminds me, as he squeezes my muscles tightly. "We're trusting you with our reputation. Annabelle isn't a submissive anymore," he continues. At the mere mention of her name, I sit further up, out of the water and move his hands away from my head. "Calm down, Edward. All I was going to say was that we've never had a trainee switch before and it's a bit of a learning curve for all three of us, so concentrate and don't let us down."

"What do I have to do, Master Carlisle?" I ask, quietly. "I will need guidance for this. This is all very new for me."

"Well, well done for calling me that. You will still be required to treat us with total obedience and be polite at all times. We will set you more tasks, like the orgasm ban, for example. We will also expect you to help set up scenes. You will be required to find equipment in any room that we send you to, and you will be expected to plan, set up and execute more elaborate scenes," he explains "But we'll discuss that another time. Now, Katy's task is the touching and sex ban, and my test is that I would like you to go shopping for implements before we meet again, okay?"

"Yes, Master," I say, quietly. I feel groggy as his fingers dig into my head and work their relaxing magic. "What do you need me to buy?"

"Well," Katy says, taking over the conversation from her husband. "Milly, as you know, loves both caning and anal sex, so, we would like you to buy a large, stainless steel butt plug and a cane."

"Oh, okay," I say, calmly. I smile, thinking that it should be a simple enough task to complete.

"Well, before you get complacent, let me explain a few things to you," Katy says. "There are things that you need to know before you buy a cane, dear," she continues. "I think you should buy a thirty two inch, rattan, medium thickness cane. If it's any longer, it's hard to be as precise as you have to learn to be, and any shorter and you won't be able to inflict the same level of intensity. If you buy a narrower one, you won't only bruise Milly more than you should, but you also risk splitting her skin too. If you buy one that's too thick, it will hurt more, and risks breaking as you beat her. Obviously, where you buy them from, and what they look like, are down to you. We think that you should begin gathering a collection of equipment as soon as possible. How do you feel about this?"

"Actually, I have been giving this some thought," I pause, yawning loudly now. "Sorry," I continue, after uncovering my mouth. "I'm really tired tonight. Anyway, as I was saying, I'm having work done in my house and I've decided to turn my attics into a large, spacious play room. Perhaps when it's ready, you could both come and see it and give me some advice on furniture and fittings?"

"We'd love that," Carlisle says. Then he bends over and kisses my cheek. As I turn to face him, I'm surprised to see that he looks sad. "I'll miss you being at my beck and call but perhaps, when you've finished training, we can still play together and I'll even bottom for you from time to time?"

"Would you be okay with that, Katy?" I ask. I suddenly feel anything but tired because the thought of dominating Carlisle is so fucking arousing that my treacherous cock is suddenly ram rod straight again, and waving out of the deep, bubbly water like a frigging periscope.

"I'll be fine with that, Edward," she says, patting me on the foot. "I just don't want you two playing together when I don't know about it. Okay? Carlisle likes to be caned and flogged, you can practice on him. I don't beat him as often as I should, really."

I'm well aware that they're very good to me and look after me incredibly well. So, when I climb out, I kiss them both gently on the lips and tell them how much I appreciate them. Katy gets all emotional and hugs me tightly before she disappears downstairs.

After I've dried off, I lie down on a towel next to the bath and sigh as Carlisle massages me with arnica lotion. He pulls my limbs, and they crack as he does so. As I drift off, he kneads and pummels my aching joints and muscles.

"Wake up, sweetheart," he says, gently. "Come on, it's time for you to go to bed, darling boy. You're absolutely exhausted. Come on."

Nodding, I struggle to my knees before he helps me to stand.

"I'm so tired …" I say, before I yawn loudly again.

"It's all the thought and energy that you have to put into dominating someone, Edward," he explains. He watches me closely as I pull on a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, risking the threat of Katy's wrath by not wearing her onesie.

"What's the matter?" I ask, confused, as Carlisle chuckles. He shakes his head as he looks me up and down.

"My wife loves you dearly, you know that, don't you?" he asks.

"Well, I'm very fond of her too," I say, ruffling my damp hair.

"But you don't love her," he says, pursing his lips as he nods at me. It isn't a question. It's a statement. "You don't love me either. I know you don't."

"No, Master Carlisle," I say. Then I turn around to look at him. "I don't love either of you, and I don't love anyone. You know that. I love to fuck people, and to be fucked BY people, but I don't love anyone or anything, and never will. I don't have it in me to love, and to be frank with you, I don't want to be loved either."

"Well, I think this is something that we need to talk about at a later date," he says. Stroking my cotton covered cock, he says, "You truly don't see yourself as others do, boy. You are loved and have a kind heart. You just need help knowing how to express yourself."

I don't want to have this type of meaningful, touchy touchy, fucking conversation. I want sex from the Hale's and to train to be the very best dominant that I can be, I have no need, or desire to love or be fucking loved.

"It's alright, Edward," Carlisle says, frowning. "We can talk about this another time. I know you don't find discussing feelings and emotions easy so I'll let it go for now, but we will have to talk about them at some point in the future, boy."

"Okay …" I say, as I go to move away from him.

As I move, Carlisle grabs the waist band of my boxers and tugs me closer. "You know, I've just cum inside that delectable arse, Edward," he says, patting my bum, before he trails his hand around to cup my balls, "and I want to fuck you again. You are killing me baby … do you have any idea how much I fancy you, baby?"

"I'm glad …" I say, smiling. "I'm glad that you fancy me …"

"Oh I fancy you, baby. But right now, my biggest concern is that if my wife sees you wearing that," he says, stroking the front panel of my boxers, "she will paddle you so hard that you won't be able to sit down for a month and being the selfish fucker that I am, I don't want to be denied fucking you for that length of time! Now, GO before I forget my wedding vows, drop to my knees and let you cum in my mouth without my wife's permission! Get into bed before she sees you and we are both punished for disobeying her rules. I don't think that I can face lying on the dungeon floor again and I'm damned sure that your arse wouldn't be able to handle one of her beatings right now either, so off you go, to bed!"

Smiling, I squeeze Carlisle's hand. "Yes, my Master."

He loves it when I call him that, and in response, instead of walking away from me, he leans forward and kisses me deeply, and passionately.

Pressing my pelvis forwards, we both groan. And as our cocks press against one another, I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer. The pressure on my erection, and balls, feels amazing and I want us to wank each other off. Just as I push my hand down the back of his boxer shorts, and stroke my fingers along the crack of his backside, he steps back, breathing deeply.

"Fuck … boy …" he says, panting hard. "Fuck … I want you again … consequences be damned …" he mutters, as he latches his mouth onto the side of my neck.

"As you said, let's not upset my Mistress, and your wife, huh?" Smiling at him, I say, "Katy is my owner too, Sir, and of course, you're right. She isn't here and hasn't given us permission to play without her, and I don't think it's right to do this without her knowing about it, do you?"

"Phew … you pick your fucking moments to be pious, boy! God …" he says. Then he gently strokes down my chest. "You certainly know how to kiss, you really do, and I really would like to lie you down on my bed and make love to you right now. But of course, you're right about my wife. Now, go to bed, Edward, right now," he says, seriously. As he runs his fingers through his hair, he tells me, "I don't think Katy would approve if we played in here and I don't want to upset her. I'm on probation as it is right now, and I don't want to risk upsetting her again. It's a difficult time for a woman and she doesn't believe in taking prisoners when she's pissed off."

I don't know what he means when he says that he is on probation, but nodding, I lower my head and leave the room before I ascend the stairs, to my rooms. I wonder what happened between Carlisle and Katy to make things different between them now? Although they seem happy together, there is 'something' that is different. Maybe that's why they went away together? I know Carlisle said that they needed time to work things out and that they needed a break from Annabelle and me, but I had thought that it was just because of the intensity of training us both, as well as being married and combining two successful careers. That has to be exhausting for them both. But as I reach our room, I start to think that it just might have something to do with me.

Milly is already asleep when I tiptoe into our bedroom, so I clean my teeth before I quietly get into bed. Then I prop up my pillows and read a book for an hour, because I'm unable to sleep. After I've shoved her arm and leg back up onto the top bunk twice, I give up. It's like trying to move a dead body. She's out for the count, and every time I do manage to move one of her dangling limbs, it simply flops back down.

I'm not entirely surprised. I know that she's played with Carlisle and she-who-must-not-be-named this week, as well as with me. She's been on night duty at the hospital for the last few days as well, so she must be utterly exhausted.

Stuffing my iPod ear phones in, I turn my mother's version of 'Die Zauberflöte' up much too loud and open up a folder.Every time I try to concentrate on the infanticide case that Henrietta has set us to study, the large plug that I've left on my desk catches my eye, and I scowl at it. It's far bigger than Carlisle's cock and I wince at the thought of it. I know it isn't much bigger than Riley's cock, and it is certainly much smaller than mine, but I haven't been fucked by anything quite as big as that for some time. So I know I'm going to hurt until my body stretches and stops fighting the intrusion.

Giving up on any idea of getting some work done, I pack everything away, and try to settle down. I lie in the bottom bunk and pull the duvet up to my chin. As I stare at the slats above me as I try to force my eyes to close. I fail, and I don't manage to sleep a wink.

Despite being exhausted, my brain races from conundrum to conundrum. I hadn't realised that I'd done anything wrong, in fact, I had thought that my domination of Milly had been pretty good. Right now, I'm confused and uncomfortable because I'm not sure what to make about today's turn of events. I partly understand Carlisle's need to show that he owns me in front of Milly. Being fucked without lubricant isn't unusual in the lifestyle, although it isn't very pleasant, but it certainly helps to make a struggling submissive focus. Setting harsh tasks for a trainee submissive is par for the course, as both punishment and to help one to concentrate, but because Katy and Carlisle have been very lenient with me in the past, this has come as a surprise. Maybe that's part of the problem. They've obviously decided to crank things up for me now. And although I know that part of being a submissive, and a dominant as well is to be pushed as far as possible to the very edges of your limits, I don't quite know how I feel about this new requirement.

As I toss and turn and get more and more disgruntled, Milly snores and mutters and sleeps like a log all night. I'm not surprised that she is this tired. I gave her quite a work out and she must have been exhausted—both mentally and physically—and I'm glad that she is able to sleep so deeply. I try to synchronise our breathing, hoping that it will lull me to sleep, but to no avail. Deciding to give up on even trying to get any sleep, I hurl my pillows across the room in rage. Climbing out of bed, I turn my small lamp on and sit at the desk. I work studiously, writing by hand so that the tapping of the keys doesn't disturb Milly, and I continue to do so until dawn raises its irritatingly bright, sunny head through the small window.

When I've finished my essay, I shower, shave and dress before Milly even opens an eye, and head downstairs.

"Good morning, darling boy," Carlisle says. He leans over and kisses me gently on the lips, and strokes the side of my face. "You taste of mint and smell delicious. I love that cologne. Isn't that the stuff that you bought when you were with Anna …" he begins. Seeing my face, he stops dead in his tracks.

Scowling at him, I pull back and stare at him, incredulously. "I bought this cologne last week," I say, dismissively. "I went to Harvey Nicks. This is all I'll use from now on. The other cologne has been tossed in the bin, Sir," I finish, angrily.

Why the fuck can't anyone understand why I'm this hurt by their behaviour?

Carlisle doesn't argue with me as he nods curtly. I make a mental note to throw away the other bottles of handmade cologne that I have stored in my flat and the ones I had on order for the Highgate house.

Looking down, submissively for once, I make my excuses and head into the kitchen. I insist that I be allowed to cook, and because Katy is busy starching and ironing her napkins, she lets me.

I can never stay angry for long when she's around. She's such an odd and strangely endearing woman, that she brightens me up even when she doesn't mean to. Smiling, I busy myself whipping up eggs to scramble, and chuckle as I hear Carlisle yelling at Milly for her tardiness.


She was supposed to cook breakfast and clean their shoes this morning, but she has clearly overslept.

As I place sausages, black pudding and bacon on the grilling tray, I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud as he yells even louder.


Wincing at the thought of anything to do with scat, I turn to look at Katy who is seemingly oblivious to all the commotion. "Um …" I begin. "Mistress, he won't really make her eat his shit, will he?"

"Hmmm … what?" Katy asks. She frowns as she looks up at me. "What did you say, dear?"

"Master Carlisle. You don't honestly think that he will make Milly eat his crap, will he?" I repeat, as I turn the sausages over. My appetite for them seems to have suddenly disappeared.

"What did you say?" she asks again. She places her elaborate creations in a small wooden box, as she looks up at me. "There," she coos, patting the linen. "That's a relief! They're all ready for the café tomorrow. I am pleased to have that done, Edward, and thank you for cooking breakfast. Oh, and I'm adding something to your task. I don't want you to drink any alcohol for two weeks. Okay?"

"It's my pleasure to cook for you, and not drinking won't be a problem. I rarely drink anymore," I say, sighing. "I just wanted to know if Master Carlisle would really make Milly eat faeces?"

"Oh that!" Katy says, chuckling. "Of course he would! Well, he wouldn't have to make her eat it because he would have to fight to stop her eating it! She loves to do that. Do you know, she even wanted to eat it directly from the lavatory on Wednesday night!"

Swallowing loudly, my stomach churns as I start to peel the mushrooms. I force myself to stare out of the kitchen window, and focus on the little starlings that are fannying about, splashing in the cold water of the bird bath.

"Yes, I think that it's safe to say that Milly is pretty singular in her likes, Edward, and she certainly isn't afraid to demand what she needs from us both. Poor Carlisle. He has certainly had three demanding submissives of late! She is like something unhinged when he lets her eat his waste, and don't start me off about what she's like when you let her drink pee. Why, dear?" she asks, as she flicks through her beloved quality linens before she puts a lid on the white washed box.

Looking down at the sausages on the tray that I've just taken out from under the grill, the contents of my stomach rush up towards my throat. Fuck. I didn't think that she would really like doing that. Christ.

"I don't think I could ever …" I begin.

"Remember what I told you last night, Edward?" Katy asks, interrupting me. When I look up at her, she is smiling. "You have to balance your limits with your submissive's limits. Scat play and golden showers were never my thing and although Carlisle is more than happy to do these things to Milly, there is no way on God's earth that his OCD tendencies would allow him to be peed on in turn!" she chuckles as she begins cutting some bread. "You just have to watch and learn a submissive's responses, dear. Your needs are important, but so are hers. Your job is to take your own pleasure whilst ensuring that she—or he—receives theirs. Remember that and you'll go a long way. Part of Carlisle's job is to do whatever she wants him to, within her limits, but he also has to reign in her excesses. Milly, like a lot of submissives, would push herself way beyond what she can physically, and mentally, deal with. Our job is to balance what she wants with what she thinks she can cope with," she finishes.

I can hear Carlisle stomping down the stairs and a door slams so loudly that it rattles the windows. Oh dear. If that was Milly, she's behaving like a brat, and she's going to get her arse handed to her!

Frying some bread, I spend the time thinking over what Katy has just said. She's right. Of course she is. But that is one hell of a responsibility for one person to have over another. What if she wants a plastic bag putting over her head? How the hell do you gauge when enough is enough? The last fucking thing I want on my plate is a bound, strapped, naked, DEAD submissive!

Ten minutes later—and quite a few internal wranglings—later, the table is set and the food is ready in the warming oven.

"Your Master is in a filthy mood," Katy says, quietly, scowling. She looks up towards the ceiling, and says, "I think you'd better kneel by his chair. Take your clothes off quickly, Edward, and make sure that your cock is hard. You know how he feels about you and that will be the perfect way to distract him and give him a reason to forget his rage for a little while!" she finishes, smiling now.

Doing as she says, I take my clothes off and fold them carefully before I kneel on the wooden floor. I spread my legs, clasp my hands behind my head and look down. It isn't the most comfortable position in the world. My ankle bone is pressed against the edge of the chair and aches, but it forces my back to remain rigid and I know that Carlisle likes to see me like this.

"You'd better make that thing," Katy urges, as she raises her chin in the direction of my groin, and prods my flaccid cock with the toe of her boot, "as hard as bloody possible so that it gets his attention. When it's like that, it looks like you're carrying a wind sock around with you. Come on," she orders me. "Get it up. Hurry up!"

Staring at her, I spit on my hand and start to slowly masturbate in front of her. Being told to "get it up" isn't exactly helpful. A man's cock is a mysterious thing. When you want it to stand to attention, it occasionally refuses to and stays hanging limply between your thighs. Then at other times, of course, it becomes ramrod straight at the most inopportune moments, such as at swimming lessons, medical examinations, and PE classes, for example!

Trying to clear my head, I close my eyes. Pushing my foreskin backwards and forwards, I shudder as my palm slides up and down the hyper sensitive head. For some unknown reason, my memory returns to the night that I'd fingered Rosalie to orgasm, and as my hand moves faster and faster, my brain somehow manages to drag the smell of her arousal out of its far corners. I jerk up into my own hand and unbelievably, I can still feel how tight and warm she felt as her arousal dripped onto my fingers. When she squirted, I almost came in my jeans and how I managed to …

"That's quite enough," Katy says, breaking my trip down memory lane. "Keep it like that. I don't know what you were fantasising about but damn, that thing is bigger than ever! Just don't cum or I'll beat you with a stick! Don't let it go down, or I will hit it with a wooden spoon!"

Just like that? I'm meant to keep my cock hard, just like that? Christ, I wish women really knew how hard it is to keep it … um … hard, sometimes!

As I get back into my position, I stare down at the shiny, wet head of my rock hard cock and sigh. I wonder what it would have been like to have fucked her. Rosalie, I mean. She's such a cock teasing bitch that I have no doubt that she would have found some reason to moan about my technique or abilities, but God if felt good when I used my fingers on her, and sucking her breasts had been amazing.

Anyway, it doesn't do to dwell on that kind of shit now. I have a demanding Master, Mistress and submissive to satisfy, not to mention a cum devouring lecturer who almost fucks, and sucks, me dry at any given time.

"I'm telling you, Katy," Carlisle rants, as he strides across the room. "I have no idea what we've done wrong lately. But we haven't had one fucking well behaved fucking submis …" He doesn't finish his sentence as he stops right before me. He stands, unmoving for the longest time, before I hear, "Oh dear God in heaven …"

"Good morning to you, my darling husband," Katy says. I hear them kiss, but continue to look down. "I thought you might like to have a little grope of your toy before you eat. What do you think?"

"Um …" he says. "What a kind thought, darling. Yes … yes … this is … lovely. Well, now, that's much better … much … much … much better. Katy …" he continues. "Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you. I needed our boy this morning ..."

"Yes, yes, dear," she says, sounding nonchalant. "I'm pleased that you're happy, now, you can play with the boy for a little while whilst we wait for Milly to get her bloody arse in gear. I'm going into the kitchen to check on the food and to plot exactly what I'm going to use to beat that little bitch with this afternoon, when Anna …" she begins.

Without thinking, my head snaps upwards and I scowl.

"Think carefully about what you're going to say to me, regarding my trainee dominatrix, before you even consider opening your mouth …" Katy warns me, as she points her finger at me.

"Great!" Carlisle says, oblivious to what has just passed between his wife and I. "Stand up, Edward! Hurry! Milly will be downstairs soon and I want to play with you before then!" he tells me, excitedly, as he grips my fingers and helps me to my feet.

Standing up, I smile at him. "Good morning, Master Carlisle. What would you like me to do?"

"Oh I don't want you to do anything, Edward," he says, before grinning. "Katy, get me some butter please. Edward, come here. Stand just there," he continues, as he pushes me towards the back of the large chair at the head of the table. "Face away from me, boy. Then lean forwards and put your hands on the arms of the chair, look down and watch me carefully," he says. Then he drops to his knees and shuffles in between me and the chair. He has his legs on either side of the chair and forces mine further apart as he does so.

Without giving me any warning, he opens his lips and sucks the very tip of my cock into his mouth and I groan loudly at the warm, wet, tight feeling. His mouth is soft and silky, yet grips me firmly. As he sucks harder, he looks up at me and grabs the back of my legs. It feels utterly wonderful and because I didn't get to cum the night before, as I roll and thrust my pelvis towards him, I'm already on the verge of losing my shit. Trying to calm myself down, before I embarrass myself too soon, I close my eyes and allow my head to drop backwards. "Oh God … that's just … just …"

"No speaking, Edward," Katy commands, as she bends down and squeezes my balls. As she does so, I jerk upright and thrust my cock all the way down Carlisle's throat. He doesn't choke or seem to mind. And, in fact, he whimpers and sucks harder. "And," she continues as she strokes her husband's hair, "You aren't allowed to cum, or touch yourself, or your master, remember?"

Fuck it.

I'd forgotten about the previous night's order.

As I try to pull backwards a little bit, in a futile attempt to calm myself down, Katy parts my arse cheeks and I freeze.

"What the fuck?" I say, inappropriately as Carlisle immediately slides a greasy finger up and down my crack before he presses it just inside me. "Oh God …" I whimper, as he adds a second one, and thrusts them both all the way in and curls them. Instantly, he hits my prostate and my eyes roll back in my head. "That's just …" I begin. Katy's hand grabs my balls, squeezes and twists them so tightly that I gasp and tears spring to my eyes as I stare at her, horrified.


Opening my eyes, I stare at her and nod.

"Good, now, let your Master use your body and enjoy himself, but I'm warning you, Edward, my order from last night still stands and if you cum, you will be left sitting, naked on the dungeon floor all night!"

Dammit all.

Carlisle adds a third finger and as he starts to fuck me harder, he begins to move his head backwards and forwards at the same pace.

My balls start to pull upwards and I just know that if I lose concentration, even for a second, I will cum, and I can't do that. Inhaling deeply, I breathe out slowly and start to count backwards from one hundred. When I reach fifty and the familiar tingle starts to spiral outwards from my groin, and ricochets up my spinal column, I begin to pant and try to remember dates and arguments from the various cases that I've had to study over the last few weeks.

Suddenly, Carlisle yanks his fingers from my body, and pulls his mouth away from my cock. "That's all for now," he says, dismissively. "My other submissive can see to my cock when we've had breakfast," he finishes, as he walks into the utility room and washes his hands.

Shit …

Walking back into the room, he smacks my naked backside really hard and I dig my fingers into the back of the chair so that I don't fall over.

"Get dressed now, Edward," he says. "But don't wash up, I want you to feel the slipperiness of the butter as you walk around this morning. You can have a bath when you get home, but not until. Okay? Respond."

"Yes, Master," I say, standing up. "May I go to the toilet?"

"Yes, but don't wash yourself. I mean it, Edward, I want you to remember what I just did to you, and don't cum. You will be beaten harder than you can imagine if you do. The butter should ooze out of you nicely for a while, and the salt will make you tingle and prickle. It will make not cumming even more difficult for you. And that's the point. We're pushing you, remember?"

"Yes, Master." I say, again. Then I head towards the small downstairs toilet. I pee and clean myself up a bit before I get dressed and return to the kitchen.

Milly has appeared and is sitting on the floor, in front of Carlisle's chair, naked, sucking his cock all the way down her throat. Her hair is still damp and she has it plaited. The way that she's kneeling means that her long braid touches the floor behind her, and her clasped hands are hidden beneath it. Her skin is pink and moist from her shower and by the amount of goose bumps that are dotting her body, I know that she must be cold, and no doubt turned on.

Carlisle is holding her head tightly, with his fingers laced in her fine, blonde hair, and yanks it backwards and forwards sharply as he raises his pelvis up and down. Her eyes are tightly closed, in either concentration or pain, or maybe a bit of both, as he pants and whimpers out his orders.

"Hard … oh fuck … harder … harder … swallow … all the way … all the way … all the way down …"

Pursing my lips, I shift where I stand as my cock strangles itself against the zip of my jeans, and I wonder for a moment why he wouldn't cum in my mouth. He loves my oral skills, or, he repeatedly tells me that he does. He groans loudly as he shudders and holds Milly still.

Katy smiles tenderly as she mops her husband's sweaty brow, and strokes his arousal covered cock. He shudders as her fingers move over his much too sensitive flesh. "Do you feel better now, love?" she asks, as she bends over and kisses his cheek. "Was that what you needed?"

"Yes … God … yes …" Between gasps, he roughly pushes Milly away and flops back in his chair, with his tracksuit bottoms and boxer shorts in a pool around his ankles.

Part of me finds it odd that she can stand by and watch her husband touching someone else, especially someone as pretty and young as Milly, but then I shrug, because who cares? If they're happy, who am I to comment? I know they have problems with him getting attached, but it doesn't seem to be the same with Milly as it was with me. I don't know why.

"Here," Katy says. She hands Milly a robe covered in swans. Smiling, Milly stands up and licks her cum covered lips. "Put this on for when you eat. I don't want you burning your skin. Your master, mistress and our trainee have a lot to do to you today, and tomorrow, and you mustn't be injured in any way. That would screw up our entire weekend," she says, sounding far more callous than she is.

"When you've eaten, Edward," Carlisle says, "I want you to go upstairs and pack everything away. Then I want you to go home and study." As he stands to pull his clothes up, he watches Milly tying the silk gown around her narrow waist, and unbelievably, his cock twitches in response to her lovely body. "I want you to go upstairs and pack everything away. I then want you to go home and study."

Okay …

"You don't want me to stay and help?" I ask. I feel quite relieved if I'm honest, because I know that Annabelle will be arriving soon.

"No, thank you." Katy says simply. She waves her hands for Milly and I to take our places at the table. "Come on, Chickens, time to scoff!"

After we eat a big breakfast, and they all praise me for my excellent cooking skills, I sit and smile to myself. I know it sounds terribly vain, but I like this kind of attention most of all. And in many ways, it's nicer to be appreciated for a skill other than for my face or body.

As I help to clear away the plates—Milly had been told to wash everything by hand for sleeping through her alarm this morning—I ask Katy why I wasn't needed for the rest of the weekend. I was slightly hurt to be honest, silly as that sounds, and had hoped that my weekends with them wouldn't be a time that Annabelle would be invited. Her answer was curt and abrupt when she said that I didn't need to know the reason, I just had to do as I was "fucking well told for once in my submissive life and go home and do some university work."

Pursing my lips, I nod and keep putting breakfast items on the work surface as I mull over her unusually unhelpful response. It isn't like her to be sharp with me like that and it certainly isn't like her not to be forthcoming with her view on things.

Now, she either meant that Annabelle would be learning how to fuck and pleasure another woman and that I'd be so turned on that I'd automatically fail their latest test at chastity, or they thought that being in the same vicinity as that lying harpy bitch would be too much for me and that I might cause a scene. And not a good one.

Sadly, I think it was more likely to be the latter option.

And, if I'm being honest, I agree with them because it wouldn't be a good thing for us to be in the same room right now. Or ever, really. I don't want to get within twenty feet of either Anna or Jazz, because I just know that I wouldn't be able to control myself. I'd end up beating the shit out of him, yelling at her, and making her cry in the process, and I don't want to do that. The mere thought of their names makes every part of my body clench in rage and as it does, the plug presses against my gland in the most amazing way. Swallowing, I continue with my job and when I'm finished, I wash my hands and stand silently in the corner, awaiting my next orders. Instantly, my fucking treacherous mind wanders and I get a familiar tingling in my groin.

Angry at myself, I look down at my massive erection and sigh. Whatever Annabelle and Jasper have done to me, I don't need to lower myself to their level by fighting and brawling. But, however angry I am, I'm still a horny git, and the thought of watching Anna and Milly's slender bodies entwined as they sixty-nine, or fuck with a strap on, almost brings me to my knees. Having had both their mouths on my body, and being buried inside both of them, I know how great they are when they fuck, and the pit of my stomach twists in a mixture of both desire and sorrow at the thought of Anna and her skills. My cock throbs and aches, and my balls are so high up against my body, I half expect to splatter my jizz all over the inside of my jeans without even touching myself.

"You look lost there, boy," Carlisle says, as he peers at me over the top of his spectacles. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Master …" I say, quietly.

"Well then, you heard your mistress, off you go and get ready to leave. There's a good baby boy. Milly, get upstairs and pack. Annabelle will be here in half an hour, and we need to leave shortly afterwards. Off you go, Edward. You aren't needed for the rest of the weekend."

"Um …" I begin, frowning. "Where are you going?"

"I beg your pardon?" Carlisle asks. "Is that any of your concern, Edward?"

"Sorry, Master," I say. "I was just curious, that's all …"

"We're going to Runnymede. We are having a private soiree this evening. We've invited a few close lifestyle friends. It will be Milly's first foray into being exhibited, and Anna's first time at controlling a submissive in public. Satisfied?"

No. I'm not. Far from it in fact. I haven't been there since the disastrous party. What the fuck is going on?

"Um …" I begin. "No … I'm not to be honest. You haven't played with me in public yet, Master," I say, petulantly, "and you've owned me far longer than you have Milly."

"That's true," Katy says, "but Milly is completely submissive, and you aren't. We can't trust you to behave yourself in public just yet. Your time will come, Edward," she continues, more kindly now, "but I don't think it will be demonstrating as a submissive, and your dominant training is in its infancy, so just be patient. Now, unless you want to come face to face with Annabelle, may I suggest that you go home now?"

"You heard, Edward," Carlisle says, clicking his fingers. "Off you go. There's a good boy."

"Yes, Master," I say, reluctantly, before I slowly walk upstairs. I pack my belongings, return to the hallway and hug them all goodbye. My bum aches a little bit and the squelching from the butter isn't exactly pleasant, and although I'm sad, all I want to do right now is to have a shower. So as I jog down their front steps, I hail the first taxi that I see, and return to Southwark. The pain in my chest feels like the scab has been ripped off a wound. Every time someone mentions her name, it hurts more than I care to admit, even to myself. I still can't believe that they're all heading off to Berkshire without me. I would have liked to have seen Tom again …

At the mere thought of his name, my cock twitches. Christ. I'm incorrigible. Moving on the seat, all my muscles clench and I wonder what it would feel like to be buried inside Tom's virginal backside. I'd probably tear him in two. I should really get in touch with him and suggest that he buys a small plug, to start the stretching process.



My poor backside is going to be in a mess after the two week order is over. As I left their house, Katy had said that I had to sit at my desk and work for the allotted length of time, wearing the plug that she had thrust into my hand. Before I headed down the steps, I'd hidden it inside my rucksack so that I wouldn't scare the taxi driver away.

My bum still throbs as I sit on the back seat of the cab and after I wave goodbye to them, I watch drizzly London pass me by in the mid-morning Saturday chill.

The traffic is surprisingly light, and it takes me less than twenty five minutes to get home. There is a pile of post waiting for me at reception in my apartment block and I open and read some of it as I climb the stairs. Oddly, people seem to 'know' me and all of a sudden, and I find it a bit strange that I have invites to fashionable parties all over London now that people realise that I am the heir apparent to the Cullen millions. Well, I'm not interested in any of them, and throw them all away. There are even invites to new BDSM clubs all the way around town too, and I smile when I see that John has been the one referring me.

My flat feels empty and for the first time, I don't want to be here. It's also far too hot because the cleaner has obviously left the central heating on full blast, so I open a few windows to remove the stuffiness. Looking around, I realise that Ted was right when he said that this isn't my 'home,' and that the Highgate house is. It just feels much too minimalist and unwelcoming. Well, I won't be here for much longer, and decide that I will put my flat on the market as soon as the house is ready for me to move into. I don't need this property to live in and frankly, the property portfolio that I inherited is so massive, I really don't want to add to it.

An idea springs to mind, and I mull it over as I light the gas under the kettle. Emmett's family aren't poor. In fact, they're solid, upper middle class, like Jasper's, but there's no way that he could afford to start up his own law firm. I obviously could do this on my own, a dozen times over in fact, but where's the fun in that?

I quickly jot down a note, reminding myself to contact the estate agent that I purchased the flat from, and Emmett, on Monday, and grab a carrot from the fridge to munch on.

After stripping off my clothes, I walk about the flat, plugging in my lap top and unpack my university folders. I fling everything in the washing machine and make a pot of coffee before I have a hot shower.

When I've scrubbed myself clean, I drink two cups of the much too strong coffee before I lie on my back on my bed and try to relax. Dropping my knees to the side, I massage my perineum and push two lubed fingers into my bum before I carefully begin to push the plug inside of me. It takes a while and lots of applications of lube, as well as deep breathing exercises, to get it in, and it is, undoubtedly, the biggest plug I've ever worn. It's very uncomfortable, and in fact, I have to pant through the pain when I finally push it all the way in, because it hurts like a bitch.

Rolling onto my side, I lie and stare out of the window for a few moments, shuddering in discomfort, until my body relaxes and become accustomed to the full sensation. Big as it is, it actually feels wonderful now that my body has stretched to accept it fully.

Watching the flashing light of the answer phone blinking away, I sigh because I have things to do and really don't want to have to face the messages that are on there right now. As I climb off the bed, and every time I move, the massive chunk of rubber rubs against my prostate deliciously. By the time I've walked into the bathroom and washed my hands, my cock is ramrod straight against my belly and my balls are already aching, pleading for relief.

After I've pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of loose cotton jogging bottoms, I sit down at my desk. Immediately, I wince because the pressure is both pleasurable and painful. As my body shivers, I pant through the ache before I turn on my computer and look down at the growing damp patch on the front of the pale grey cotton. I've got to focus on something else! At this rate, I won't be able to control my urges.

Clicking the button on my phone, I wait for the machine to retrieve my messages. There is usually one from Milly after we've met up, chatting and saying how much she enjoyed herself, but there isn't one today. There are countless messages from Clarissa, Ali, Jasper, Annabelle and Henrietta, a couple from Ted and even one from my business manager asking for a meeting as soon as possible. But I'm not surprised that Milly is MIA because I know that she's still with the Hale's and will be there until tomorrow night. I still feel odd that Carlisle and Katy had told me that they needed their submissive for their other trainee dominant to practice something on, and that I wasn't required to attend, hence being sent home to get on with my studies. I'm not used to being sexually rejected. Emotionally, obviously, but people always want a piece of my arse, and cock, and tongue and fingers, so this is an odd experience for me.

Sitting at my desk, I squirm as the pressure from the fucking plug is relentless. It's so big that no matter how I sit, it presses every single part of my prostate and more than once, I consider ignoring Katy's order and just wanking myself to orgasm.

I don't.

I'm much too bloody minded to do that

The three hours that Katy had insisted I wear the plug, passes so slowly that I get up several times to check that my clock doesn't need new batteries. The one good thing is that I get three lots of my course work finished and continue on my Robert Hanson project because I have to focus on something other than the way my cock is screaming at me for attention.

At 3:00 pm, I remove the plug and somehow manage to resist the urge to use my sticky pre-cum to lubricate my hand and tug my cock a few times. Stepping out of my ruined tracksuit bottoms, I have another quick shower, careful not to touch my erection, before I change into my wet suit. I need to exercise my body into exhaustion or I'm going to fail my new task before twenty four hours have even past. And I don't fail. I won't and can't fail, because I never fail, and I'm certainly not going to give in to this shit and fail this simple order now.

Pulling a thick, baggy cotton tracksuit, plus a hat and gloves on, I tie my running shoes tightly. I put a law book on famous tax trials in the last decade, a bottle of water, my wallet, my mobile phone, and my rowing shoes, into a small waterproof rucksack and head outside.

It's a bright, sunny, but chilly, afternoon and the sun, although sitting quite low in the sky, is like a huge Chinese lantern above Tower Bridge, and dazzlingly bright. For the first time this year, I take my canoe out of the underground storage area, put it on my shoulder, and walk along the embankment, dodging the crowds. Part of the joy of living in London is that whatever you do, and however you are dressed, no one seems to notice. Or maybe it's just that they're so busy, they don't have the time, or energy, to care.

When I reach Butler's Wharf, I skip down the steps to the tiny beach, and much to the fascination of the gaggles of tourists, I strip out of my tracksuit and shove it into my rucksack. Zipping it up firmly, I put it onto my back before I take my shoes off. Sitting down, I force my feet into the tight, rubber shoes that I wear to row in, put my bag back on my back, and wade into the icy water.

Despite the thickness of my wet suit, and the fact that the water is only up to my knees, the chill is almost unbearable as I climb into my small boat. I'm buffeted around immediately in the buoyant tide, and grabbing my oar, I paddle to remain still as a large boat passes me by. Waiting for the backwash to settle, I head downstream in the fast current. The water is surprisingly clean, but due to the swirling motion, and turbulence from all the river traffic, it is the colour of pale coffee because of the churning silt.

The River Thames has a deceptively aggressive tide that has claimed the lives of many and today it seems stronger than ever. So, instead of rowing against it to begin with, I go with the current and head across the wide river, to the north bank. I have to dodge pleasure cruisers, river taxis, private boats, other canoeists, the river police and buoys covered in gulls and cormorants to get there, because the river is extra busy today.

I can't shake the thought that the Hales, Anna and Milly will be in Berkshire by now. At it hurts. I want to be there with them, despite the fact that I don't want to be with Annabelle. And no doubt they will be fucking or getting ready to fuck, and my heart lurches in my chest at the thought that they don't want me with them.

The splashes from the churned up water are cold, but welcome as my face heats up. By the time I reach the Tower of London, I'm relaxed, focused and sweating. Finally, as my muscles scream out in pain, any thought of Anna has been agonisingly burned out of my mind.

As a large tourist boat pulls into the pier, I swerve passed it as I speed up my movements and travel downstream. I pass the old warehouses that have been turned into modern, trendy apartment blocks, similar to my own, and ancient, noisy pubs. As I row around the large bend in the river, Canary Wharf looms up next to me like a large, foreboding sentinel. By the time I reach Greenwich, the river is less busy, but the waves are far larger. I slow down my motions and pull into the pier. I use one hand to paddle as I remove my backpack and have a drink. I'm frankly knackered as I row in front of the beautiful buildings that make up the Royal Naval College.

As I shift in my seat, I wince because my bum is still aching, as are my upper thighs. I guess I must have been holding my muscles much more tightly than I thought, when I was studying, as I tried to control the pressure of the plug.

Despite the cold air, and even colder water, I'm sweating profusely, and my arms and legs are on fire with the built up lactic acid.

Dodging a large catamaran filled with more excitable tourists, I turn my boat around in a large arc, and head upstream, towards Limehouse. En route, I pass the glass and metal domes that show the entrances to the Thames footpath as I row back the way I've come.

Rowing on the Thames is very different, and much harder work, than it is on the River Cam, and I'm absolutely dying as I force my aching arm muscles to move. Setting my jaw, and staring straight ahead of me, my legs are on fire and my toes feel numb as I manage to go even faster. The waves splash over the front of the boat, wetting my feet and wetsuit as I grunt in effort.

The sun is so low that it almost blinds me in its brightness and I am much too hot now. Sweat trickles down the sides of my face as I clench my teeth and breathe as slowly as I can. Paddling against the tide is exhausting and every muscle in my body screams out as they burn from the build-up of toxins in their fibres.

Tower Bridge looks really beautiful as I approach it. I smile both in relief that I'm almost finished, as well as the fact that Victorian architecture is very impressive—and breathing hard—I smile to myself as the Tower of London comes into view once more. Rowing in measured, laboured strokes, I do a loop around HMS Belfast and as I look up, I smile at the waving children who are watching me. When I reach the white washed walls and thatched roof of the Globe Theatre, I row across the river, with difficulty. The waves are now much higher, lifting me quite high in the water and the eddies and swirls around the legs of the bridge are dangerously wide. If I get too close to them, I will be in serious danger and as tiredness makes my arms start to cramp, I decide to call it a day right here instead of going home immediately.

Clambering out of the rising tide at Tower Pier with shaking legs, I struggle to drag my featherweight canoe behind me. Yanking my bag off my back, I unzip the top of my wet suit and peel it down. As the cold air instantly chills my sweaty skin, I tug the rubber boots off my feet. I've just had one hell of a work out and I'm utterly shattered. I'm used to rowing up and down the reasonably calm River Cam, along with my rowing mates, not tackling the powerful Thames on my own, and I'm knackered.

Without even bothering to dry myself or put socks on, I pull my trainers onto my damp feet, and lay back on the cold concrete. After lying, prostrate, on the hard ground for a few minutes, I finish drinking from my water bottle as I try to calm my breathing. My lungs are on fire and my heart is beating so hard that I'm convinced it's trying to fight its way out of my chest. Once more dodging the gaggles of tourists that seem more than a little bit fascinated with me, I carry my boat with me across the small chain linked bridge to St Katherine's Dock, and walk towards the large, black, flower bedecked building ahead of me.

I check with one of the boat owners in the small marina that it's okay to chain my canoe to the railings, I leave it outside the Dickens Inn. He suggests that I should put some clothes on as I'm getting quite a lot of attention, and so smiling, I put my sweatshirt on over my half removed wetsuit, and order myself a pint of ice cold orange juice. I knock it back without taking a breath, before I head into the loos. I groan when I look in the mirror because I look like shit. My hair is plastered to my head with sweat, and my face is such a florid red that it clashes with my hair.

After washing my face and hands, I ruffle up my curls and head upstairs into the bistro part of the building.

Sitting on the glass covered balcony in the dimming light, I take off my shoes and order a rare steak and salad, plus another pint. The sun has dipped behind the buildings and its getter darker so I plan to read my book for an hour, as I try to ignore the bloody waitress and her overbearing attentions. I wish she'd just piss off. How many times does she intend on offering me different types of fucking mustard or horseradish with my meal?

The food is delicious, and I spend much longer than usual relishing every mouth full. I order a crème brulee with raspberries for pudding, and a bottle of still water, before I have another pint of juice. By the time I've eaten, I'm full, and feel utterly knackered. Squinting up into the twilight coloured sky, I sigh. It's too late to row back, and frankly, the rowing has made so tired that I feel somewhat lightheaded and I don't fancy drowning in the high tide, so instead, I leave my canoe chained up, and walk back to my flat at a leisurely pace, with my rucksack slung over my shoulder.

After I throw my keys onto the shelf by the living room door, I groan. My answer phone is blinking rapidly again. I peel myself out of my wetsuit as I listen to the messages, before I delete them one by one. Most of them are, unsurprisingly, from Jasper. There aren't any from Milly or Annabelle, but then, they're playing this afternoon so they wouldn't be anywhere near a phone.

The last one makes my ears prick up and I smile because it's from Rosalie and Emmett inviting me out for a drink tonight, and this surprises me because we haven't spoken since before Christmas. They want to meet up at a club in the West End, and say that they will be there after ten o'clock. I haven't seen either of them for ages so shrugging, I think, why not? I've caught up on all my work, done the task set me by my dominant and dominatrix, and have done a bit of exercise, and now I'm at a loose end, so yeah, I might as well go. The idea that I had earlier in the day is still pricking at the back of my mind and I think tonight might be as good a time as any to raise the subject of a partnership when I've qualified.

It's still early. And because they don't want to meet me until 10:00 pm, I go over some of my essays and do a little more online research before I crash on my couch for a few hours. I sleep a dreamless sleep—thanks to my Guinness. When I wake up, I open a bottle of water, have a shower, shave, and attempt to sort out my nutty hair. Staring at myself in the mirror, I sigh because I could really do with a haircut. There isn't any time for that now, so I just leave it as it is. I pull on a pair of low slung black jeans and a black linen shirt, before I put on my massively expensive watch. After cleaning my teeth, I open the cabinet to find my cologne. The bottle is the same as the one that Annabelle had bought me for Christmas and I had forgotten about it in my tiredness. It's still sitting there, staring at me and as my heart twists painfully in my chest, I grab the bottle in rage. I unscrew the top, empty the contents down the sink and throw the ornate bottle into the waste paper basket. I don't want anything to remind me of that bitch.

Muttering to myself about lying, traitorous and treacherous ex-friends, I take the bottle of Chanel aftershave out and spray it on to my neck.

After putting on a pair of shoes, I stuff my wallet, phone and keys into my back pocket and grab my black pea coat. After yanking a slouchy black hat onto my head, I slam the door behind me, and head off into night time London. The doorman wishes me a good evening, and hails me a cab. I jump in and sit and watch the bright lights of the South Bank zooming passed me, and smile. London never gets old for me and although I love living in Cambridge, London will always be my home.

As I arrive at the club in pavement heaving Soho, I sigh. There is a queue, three deep, half way down the street as people wait to get inside. This is 'the' club to be seen in at the moment, and although I've never been inside, I know from newspaper articles that the great and good, and trendy and famous, all frequent the private rooms. I also know that the prices are exorbitant and I chuckle to myself because of course they are. Rosalie wouldn't go anywhere that wasn't 'the best.'

As I join the end of the line, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Apparently, Rose is waiting for me inside, and the doorman has been given my description, so I don't have to queue with the 'masses.'

"Don't be late, Eddie," she demands. "You know I don't like being kept waiting. The doorman fancies me and my friend got us into the VIP lounge. Hurry! The champers is on ice, and I've put the bill in your name. We don't have to sit with the common people and I'm thirsty, so hurry up!"

Typical Rosalie, she's bitchy and disparaging about everyone else, and she certainly wouldn't queue with the general populace if she could get away with it and no doubt she's ordered either Krug or Crystal champagne. She couldn't possibly bring herself to drink Prosecco or even Lansen or Mumm Cordon Rouge. That would be just too terrible for her, and I'm relieved that I won't be drinking tonight because whenever I go out with Rose and Emmett, I end up with the hangover from fucking hell.

I text her back and tell her to stop being so damned impatient and to order me some water.

As I walk towards the front of the line, chuckling to myself at Rose's audacity, someone grabs my arm. Spinning around, I grin when I see three pretty, if slightly tarty dressed, girls.

Looking them up and down, I raise an eyebrow but say nothing, despite the fact that my cock gets hard so fast that it almost takes my breath away. Christ. This sex ban is going to kill me.

"Where are you going, gorgeous?" the one with long, white blonde hair asks. Her black leather dress is skin tight and finishes mid-thigh, and I have to say, she looks fucking gorgeous. "Don't leave me … I don't want to be left on my own …"

My eyes move from hers, and trail all the way down to the toes of her sky high stilettoes, before they move back up stocking encased legs, and land on her small, but impressive tits.

"Why don't you want me to leave you behind?" I ask. Grinning at her, I instinctively know what her answer will be. "Do I know you?"

"No, you don't know me … but I promise you that I'd like to get to know you …" she says, licking her painted lips. "In any way that you wanted …"

"Well, that's good to know," I say, frowning at her as I straighten my back and lower my voice, as I put my hands behind my back and push my chest forwards. If I'm going to be a dominant, I want to know if I can affect people by using just my body language and voice, in the same way that John, Carlisle and Katy can. "Would you kneel down here if I demanded it? Would you?"

Her expression changes and her mouth pops open in surprise. "Oh my God … you know what?" she asks. Stepping closer to me, she trails her fingers over my cheek, "I think I just might … if you ordered me to do it …"

"Blimey …" once of her friends says, as she trips and almost falls over. "You're … you're … fucking hot … Christ, Mel, can we share him? I don't mind if you get his cock … have you seen those fingers?"

She isn't too shabby either. She's wearing a very short, skin tight, red bandage style dress and her dark red corkscrew curls tumble down her back. She is much thinner, and taller, than her friend, and although she isn't as pretty, I certainly wouldn't kick her out of bed. Her other friend has a short black bob and is wearing tight black trousers and a cropped top and I think it's a safe bet to say that I'd fuck them all.

"Is that a fact? You'd give me a blow job, in the street, if that's what I wanted you to do?" I ask. I immediately move closer to her. As my chest presses against hers, she quivers.

"Oh yes … please …"

Well, I obviously can cut the mustard with my voice alone, and laughing, I pull away from her, and step into the road.

"Well, perhaps some other time, I'm busy right now!" I say. Knowing not only that I can't play away right now, but I'm also on a strict 'fucking' ban. I'm likely to get my balls handed to me on a platter if I touched someone and got found out. And I can't lie to the Hale's about this, I just can't. If I want to train to be a dominant, I have to take my training seriously and I have to do as I'm sodding well told for once in my life.

"You can't leave me like this!" the girl shouts. "Come back!"

"You mean he can't leave us like this!" the dark haired girl yells.

That would be a fucking amazing thing. Three of them at once? Even I've never have a four-way with three girls. Christ …

All humour leaves me instantly because the inquisitive, randy bastard part of my brain takes over entirely and I stumble on the cobbled street. I really want to do this. I want to try everything, sexually, and turning to look at them again, I waver for a couple of seconds. I could take them to a hotel room, couldn't I? That wouldn't be personal and they wouldn't be able to find me again later. I could strip naked, then lie down and have one impaled on my cock, whilst another sits on my face and I could fuck the third with my fingers …

Staring at them, I shake my head as they move towards me. They are intent on getting their hands on me and Christ, I really want them to.

Unable to stop myself, I smile and move back towards them. But the fucking voice of reason jabbers away, kicking at my conscience and once more, I stop dead in my tracks. No. I can't. I was given an order and I have to stick to it.

My cock doesn't seem to want to acknowledge this fact and instantly bangs its head, painfully hard, off my button fly, trying to force me to be a fucker like I usually would be. I haven't fucked anyone but that bitch, Annabelle, and then Milly, Katy and Henrietta for months now, and frankly, it would be good to fuck someone new.

But no. I can't.

DAMMIT! I don't like being told what to do but wasn't that why I signed up to be their submissive in the first place? Because quite simply I wanted to experience new things.


As I turn away again, all three of them mutter disgruntledly, but I won't change my mind now. Sighing, I look up just in time to see Emmett, frantically waving his massive bear like paw from the head of the queue.

As I get closer, he bellows out to me. "Cullen! Over here! Hurry! Rosie's waiting inside, and you know that she doesn't like to be kept waiting! Hurry up! RUN! FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, MOVE IT!"

Chuckling to myself, I tuck my phone away and stride forwards. Ignoring Emmett's melodramatics, I smile at the guy at the door, holding a clip board. "I believe I'm expected? Edward Cullen?" Looking through his list, he nods, and directs us towards the shallow steps.

"Downstairs, through the club. You're in the private section," he grunts, as he swats the three girls, who are still following me, away. "Get to the end of the queue! You've lost your space now!"

"Hurry up, you arse!" Emmett barks, as he hugs me briefly. I turn and mouth 'sorry,' to my taggers on. "Rose is waiting for me to pour her champagne and you know how she gets if she's kept waiting!" he says.

"Jesus, Em," I say, shaking his hand firmly, and laugh. "Are you still her lapdog? And don't you mean that she's ready for you to pour her chilled champagne that I've got to fucking well pay for? God you're such a bloody pussy when it comes to her!" I say, instantly forgetting the unholy trio behind me.

"Shut up, man," he groans, as we walk through the double doors and head down the ornate, gilded, elaborate staircase. The smell of dry ice, perfume and money wafts up towards us. This place isn't for anyone on a budget. "You know how Rose is! And I'm not her bloody lap dog, she's got a new boyfriend who does all that for her! The Right Honourable Theo Stanthorpe, Baronet." he snaps. "Can you believe that she's landed herself some chinless wonder who's an aristocrat? Anyway, he's in there with her and God knows why, but she's in a filthy mood. Every time he touches her, she slaps him away. I don't know what the fuck's the matter with her, she's acting like the Queen of Sheba and is just horrible tonight! She's desperate for a drink and says that she'll circumcise one of us with her finger nails if we make her wait too long, but she won't let me open a bottle until you arrive for some sodding reason! You're fucking late and you really don't want to face her wrath. You know, since she graduated, she's more demanding than fucking ever!"

"You sound like you're absolutely terrified of her! Man up, Em! Christ! You're going to be a fucking lawyer, are you going to be like this with your clients?" I ask. I'm laughing loudly as we reach the bottom of the stairs.

The music—if you can call it that—is brain numbingly loud, and I struggle to hear myself speak, let alone Emmett. The lights are so bright and move in time with the heavy rhythm of the base, that they are disorientating. Unbelievably, I struggle to walk properly as the floor vibrates beneath my feet. Strobe lighting makes the heaving, undulating bodies on the dance floor look like they're moving in slow motion. I look down at my shoes in a bid to keep my balance and stay upright as I struggle to make my eyes focus properly.

I don't think that I've ever seen so many people crammed into a room. Bodies are pressed against the walls as they drink and people watch. It's like an expensive cattle market and I'm actually quite relieved that I'm out of the 'market' for the time being. Although, I still wonder what it would be like to have to service three girls … I might actually ask Carlisle if he could arrange for another female submissive to join us sometime in the future.

Emmett punches me painfully hard on my bicep, and I flinch, forgetting my pervy plans as I punch him back.

"Fuck off! I've got to get back in the gym on Monday and then back on the river! Stop being a prick!

"And no. I'm not scared of how I'll be with my frigging clients, Edward! Shut the fuck up, dude! They will be far less intimidating and bitchy than your best friend's cousin, you know? She's the bitch from hell if she's crossed or thwarted! Do you know something? I've still got a scar on my shin from when she kicked me last summer. All I did was to splash her a little bit when I jumped in the swimming pool. She waited until I climbed out, slipped her shoes back on and wallop! She kicked me so hard that I had to go to hospital and have two fucking stitches! I didn't have medical insurance so it cost me a fucking fortune in a Greek clinic! UGH! I bet even fucking serial killers have to have a tender side …" he says, frowning.

I don't respond and I certainly don't want to start talking about Jasper and Annabelle tonight, so I shove my hands in my pockets and follow along behind him.

"You're filling out," he says, as he grabs my upper arm. "You're going to have arms almost as big as mine soon, man! How's the rowing coming along?" he asks. Before I can answer him, he pushes his way through to the back of the club, and through double, etched glass doors. "Don't you miss rugby? I still play, you know." he says

My eyes take a few seconds to acclimatise as I blink. The room is darker and cooler than the main part of the club and the music is slightly less loud, although it's just as crowded. The private bar is once again elegant, and the entire place has an art nouveau theme. Lights still pulse around the large space, but they are less dazzling than in the outside madness.

Small tables are surrounded by prissy, girlie, velvet chairs and the far walls have high backed, padded, buttoned couches in this room, whereas the main area only has a few high stools next to the bar. This is an area for chatting and communicating, whereas the larger room is for dancing and showing yourself off to the opposite—or same—sex.

As I look around, I smile, because Rosalie is reclining on one of these, closest to the bar, and instead of looking for us, she is, instead, scowling at the man who is sitting next to her. People are squeezed along the bar and walls, and quite a lot of them are watching her. I can't say I blame them, because she is just as beautiful as ever. Her date, on the other hand, is the polar opposite of her. He isn't good looking, it has to be said. He has large, bucked front teeth and small, round spectacles. His dark hair is slicked back and a few, greasy looking strands keep flopping over his eyes. His nose is long and hooked and he's wearing a tuxedo—in a night club! He looks thoroughly besotted as he gazes at the girl beside him. The feeling is very obviously not reciprocated because every time he goes to touch her knee, or her fingers, just as Emmett had said, she slaps him down and scowls at him even more deeply.

Despite the scowl on her face, Rosalie looks more beautiful than ever, if that's at all possible. Her blonde hair is brighter than usual and is piled up in a messy 'thing' on the top of her head. She's wearing a really tight black vest top and a pair of high cut, skimpy black shorts with flat, knee length, black, lace up Doc Marten boots. She looks absolutely amazing. In fact, if I'm being totally honest, she looks like sex.


I feel the old ache in the base of my stomach, the way I always did in the past when I thought about her, and my balls tingle, but I know I won't do anything about it and smile in her direction. Her magnificent breasts are all but spilling out from the straining fabric and the spaghetti straps look as if they'll snap if she leans forwards. And she isn't wearing a fucking bra. Dammit. Tonight is going to kill me.

As if to compose myself, my hand automatically grabs my leather wrist band, reaffirming my decision to submit to Carlisle and Katy's wishes.

Looking down at the table, I roll my eyes and sigh because it would seem that the lovely Rose has gone all out to impress tonight. There is a huge bucket, filled with ice, and two unopened bottles of Krug are nestled amongst the cubes. A metal bowl, also filled with ice, is next to it, and a dish is sitting on top of the ice, piled high with caviar.

"Excuse me?" I shout out to the hovering waitress, and ask, "Could I have a bottle of sparkling water, with a jug of ice."

"Water?" Emmett asks, scowling at me. "Why the fuck are you drinking water? Water is for swimming in, washing your hands in and rowing on, NOT for drinking!"

"Training." I state, flatly. "I'm on an alcohol ban because I'm doing some serious training at the moment."

"You're not sticking to poncy water, Edward," he says, shaking his head. "Forget that order," he tells the waitress. "Bring another couple of bottles of champagne, please."


"Em, I'm not drinking!" I say, firmly.

"And I say you are," Emmett says again. "If you don't, I'll pour vodka into your eye balls and get you pissed that way!"

"Jesus …" I groan. "Don't do that to me again. I'm convinced that fucking stupid prank is the reason I now wear glasses, Emmett. I was almost blind for days after you did that, you knob! Okay, one glass, Em, ONE glass!"

Katy and Carlisle will never know that I've had half a glass of champagne, will they? It's not like I'm going to get drunk or anything, is it?

"Okay," Emmett says, laughing. "Bring some straws!"

Oh shit.

The last time I drank champagne like that, I slept for seventeen hours and pissed all over the bed!

"No straws, NO STRAWS!" I bellow out towards the waitress who now ignores me, and brings an extra bottle of wine, and a handful of straws.


"I don't want any fucking straws! I'm not drinking champagne like that with you ever again, Em!"

As ever, it would seem that Rosie has decided to indulge her expensive tastes. A small platter has sour cream, lemon wedges and blinis on it and there is a small silver pepper mill next to that. Another platter is covered in open oysters, more chunks of citrus fruit, along with a small dish of wasabi sauce. And as I look up at her, she stares into my eyes and presses her arms to her sides, without smiling, deliberately enhancing her perfect breasts.


"Don't you have something to say to me?" Rose snaps. "I am, after all, one of your oldest friends, arse! Come and kiss me, brat!"

"Hello, Rosalie," I say. Leaning over, I go to kiss her cheek. As I do so, she turns her face to mine and presses her lipstick covered lips to my dry mouth.

"Mmmm … as always, you smell nice," she says, as she pushes her amour out of the way and pats the seat beside her. "Sit next to me, Eddie."

Ignoring her, I smile and sit in the chair opposite her. "And you are?" I ask the poor confused looking creature who has almost crawled back into his seat beside the object of his desire.

"I'm … I'm … I'm …" he begins. Staring at Rosalie with a look of abject terror, he continues to stammer painfully. "I'm …"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Theo!" she barks. "Spit it out or just shut up! You're spraying me with saliva! Stop it! I don't know why you're so bloody nervous! You don't stammer in front of anyone but me and your mother!"

"Rosalie," I say, sighing. "I'm so glad to know that you're as much of a fucking bitch as ever! I've missed you!" I laugh, as I carefully, and almost silently, remove the cork from a bottle of Krug. "It's nice to know that some things don't change in my world. Did you know, Theo," I say, turning to look at the terrified looking man in front of me, "and it's terribly nice to meet you, by the way—that a champagne bottle should sigh when you remove the cork, and make the noise that a woman does when you make love to her?"

Rose's eyes widen and she moves in her seat, before she recrosses her legs. "I see you still talk a load of shit, Eddie," she says, before she grins at me. "You smooth talker you. I just bet you make girls sigh like that …"

Smiling, I cock my head on the side and carefully pour the biscuit coloured, bubbling liquid into a plain, elegant flute, before I hand it to her. For the next half an hour, we drink, eat the salty food and chat. I, of course, don't stick to my planned half a glass. Rose is drinking quite heavily and raising my eyebrows to the waitress, she appears, like magic, with another bottle of champagne. I think she must be on a hefty commission. Poor Theo hardly gets to say a word and every time he tries to join in, Rose gives him a withering look and he shuts up instantly.

Watching Rose swallow the live oysters whole, is quite disconcerting, and more fucking arousing than it should be. As one slips down her throat, whole, she drops her head back slightly, moans and licks the dripping liquor from her plump lips. I have to move my legs to stop my cock getting garrotted by the thick material of my jeans, and I knock a glass of bubbly down in one, hoping to stop myself from dribbling.

Rosalie disappears to the loo, with Theo scuttling along behind her, carrying her bag, and Emmett and I discuss our legal studies. He's finished his degree and is about to start his first year as an intern at Mishcon de Reya in the analysing risk, protection of assets departments. He will be there for six months before he shifts to another firm that specialises in criminal law. His father wants him to have more than one string to his bow. It sounds dull to me. I want to go straight into criminal law and have no interest in learning about anything else. He left Oxford with flying colours and seems fascinated when I tell him of my plans to continue my degree in France for two years. What I don't tell him is that I've already contacted Michael Wolkind, QC, with a view to an internship when I've graduated. He said he liked my arrogance in contacting him so early on in my studies, but that I have to get in touch with him again in my final year before he'll make any kind of decision.

"I've been thinking about opening my own firm when I qualify," I tell him as I pop open the second bottle of champagne, and fill our glasses once more. "And," I continue. "I want you to be a partner, Em. But it will be a firm specialising in criminal law, so do this internship, by all means, but I will need you to get involved in my speciality as quickly as possible."

"Really? Shit! Dude!" Emmett says, looking stunned. "We need to sit down and talk about this when we're both sober! What are you up to next weekend?"

"I'm busy next weekend," I lie. I'm not, but I really need to do some studying, "let's do it during the Easter break?"

He readily agrees, and I change the subject. As we continue discussing our favourite notorious cases, Rosalie drapes herself over me from behind and I can feel her rock hard nipples pressing against my shirt covered back as she wraps her arms around my shoulders.

"Come and dance with me, Edward," she says, stroking her nails down the side of my neck. "Come on … dance with your little Rosie Posey, I'm bored … entertain me … show Theo what he has to do to satisfy a girl like me …"

"I don't like dancing, Rose," I say, shaking her off, "I've never liked to dance, as you very well know, and Em and I have a lot of catching up to do."

"I demand that you dance with me, Eddie," she says, as she pushes me backwards in my seat and sits astride my legs, blocking Emmett from my line of vision. "Or I will irritate the fuck out of you all night and," she says, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "if you don't, I'll be forced to dance with Theo and I might never recover from the humiliation …"

"You're a prime bitch, you know that, right?" I say, laughing as I shove her backwards and open my knees. As I do, I force her legs wide apart and she gasps.

"God I like that …" she murmurs.

"What? You like this?" I ask, smirking as I shove them even further apart and stare at her crotch.

"Yes … I like this …"

"I didn't think you'd like to be handled roughly, Rose …" I say, as my heart rate increases.

"There's a lot about me that you don't like, Eddie …" she whispers, and in response, she jerks upwards, and thrusts her breasts towards my face. I stare at her and slide my hands slowly up her naked thighs. She stops speaking and raises her pelvis slightly as my hands move higher.

Just before I reach the frayed edges of her shorts, I move my face closer towards her, lick my lips and … stand up, making her scramble to stand up and not fall over.


Even in the darkness, I can see that Theo's face has turned the most peculiar shade of grey as his eyes widen massively in fear.

"I'm going to dance with you, Rosalie, that's what I'm doing. Come on," I say. Putting my glass down, I hold my hand out to hers as Emmett sighs before I laugh loudly.

"Oh," she says. Looking down at my hand, she scowls. "Right. I didn't think you would dance with me, um … right … well … okay … come on then. But be gentle with me …"

Laughing, I walk towards the double doors, turn and yell behind me. "EM! ORDER THREE MORE BOTTLES! MAKE IT CRYSTAL THIS TIME! I WANT TO GET PISSED TONIGHT!"

I'm semi-smashed already, so I've completely broken my master and mistress's order so, there seems to be no point in at least attempting to behave myself, alcohol wise now, does there?

I yank Rose really hard and she stumbles along behind me as we push through the double doors. Shoving my way into the centre of the dance floor, I twirl her before I wrap an arm around her waist and clasp her hand tightly, holding her close to me.

"What are … are … you doing … to me … to me … Eddie? Huh?" she asks, breathlessly, as I crush her breasts against my chest.

"Dancing …" I whisper. Grabbing her shoulder, I pull her even closer as I start grinding my obvious erection against her body. "Isn't that what you wanted? To dance with me? Roseie?"

"Yes …" she says, staring at me. "I did … that's what I said I wanted … you look amazing tonight … and smell even better …" she continues. "I can't believe how firm you are, baby …" she says, as she grasps my shoulder tightly.


Hmmm …

As she raises one arm to wind it around the back of my neck, I spin her away from me and twirl her around. As she squeals crossly, I start to dance in front of her, and she reaches up, undoing her hair and allows it to spill down over her shoulders and back.

"I'm hot …" she says.

I don't know if she means that she's hot, or that she thinks that she looks hot, but by the look of every man around her, it's the latter. And by the way every woman is staring at her and almost shooting lasers of hatred and envy out of their eyes, I think they agree with their men's assessment.

"Yes, you are …" I agree, as my hands reach towards her again. "Very …"

"You move beautifully …" she mutters, moving closer to me. She raises her arms above her head, thus pushing her tits towards me even more. "I didn't know you could dance, Eddie. I really didn't …" she says, as she does a slow rotation. Her rounded, firm bottom wiggles in its tight cotton prison, and as she turns towards me again, she rolls her hips. My cock can imagine what it would feel like to be nestled between those pert cheeks, and I have to swallow the mouthful of saliva that appears as if by magic. Whenever she flirts with me, my body responds like Pavlov's fucking dogs.


"I don't move well …" I say, stupidly, but I mean it. I fucking hate dancing, and although I'm not too horrific at it, I don't like it. "Well … um … not very … um … well …"


She turns me back into a jibbering fifteen year old with a painful hard on the second she does this. Right. I'm a trainee dominant, for Christ's sake, not to mention that I plan on being a big wig lawyer, I need to be able to control all kinds of situations by just the tone of my voice and a few well-chosen words, just like John does. So, it's time I reined this back in, right now.

"Do I really, Rosalie …?" I murmur into her ear. "Well, baby," I continue, lowering, yet sharpening my voice even further, "let me tell you something. You have no idea quite how well I fucking move …" I continue, as I grab her hands and twist her so that she's facing away from me. I wrap my arms around her body, so that her breasts rest on my forearms, and pull her flush against me again. This time I grind and thrust against her and in response, she shudders.

"Holy fuck …" she says, as she presses back against me. "I love that you've got a hard on for me …" she says, rubbing against my erection. "You've got such a big cock … do you remember that night, Eddie?" she asks, turning to look at me. "When you fucked me? With your fingers?"

"No," I say, dismissively, as I spin her and press against the front of her body this time. "Remind me what we did …"

"Under the trees … in our garden …" she all but pants out. "Don't you remember?" she asks, looking hurt. "Edward … you have to remember … you made me squirt for God's sake!"

"Not really, Rose," I say, pulling away again. "I've finger fucked a lot of girls in my time! When was it? If I can't remember, it couldn't have been that memorable, could it?"

"You little fucker!" she says, trying to wrap herself around me again. "Come back here! I want to keep dancing like that! I like it! Eddie!"

"Nope," I laugh, dodging her slapping hands.

Grabbing her knee, I yank her leg up around my waist and press her crotch against my thigh. "Fuck … Eddie …" she says.

As she grabs my wrist, she looks down and frowns. "Why do you wear that? It just doesn't seem to be your kind of thing, you know? If you were Jasper, I'd say it was just your kind of thing, but you're usually such a stuffed shirt in the way that you dress, I wouldn't think you'd go for something as 'out there' as a leather wrist band."

"I like it …" I say, pulling my hand away. "It means something to me. Something that's just for me …" I continue, saying more than I should to Miss Sticky Beak.

"What does it mean?" she asks, and my heart sinks.

"It means that no matter how hard I study, and how professional I have to behave, Rose, that I can be whomsoever I choose on my free time, and no one can make me be any different." I say, proudly.

"You do talk bollocks sometimes, Cullen," she says, sighing as she looks up at me. "And just for the record, I know that you're hiding something."

"Don't talk shit," I say, grinding against her as I grab a handful of her soft hair, and tug it hard. "Come on, Rose. You wanted to dance, so dance!"

"You can't wear that in court, you know?" she says. Looking me up and down, she twists her mouth to the side as she grabs my hand back and turns it over. "You're an odd fish at times, Eddie. Why do I get the feeling that there are parts of you that I'll never get to know?"

"I won't be standing up in court for years, Rose, so stop moaning …"

"Are you going to tell me why I think you're up to no good, Eddie?" she asks, as her breathing increases.

"No, I'm not. Now, shut the fuck up and dance …" I say, as I drop her leg and grab a handful of her arse cheek. She groans and pushes one leg between my thighs and leans forwards. "Just like that …" I say. Gripping both her rounded cheeks in my hands, I squeeze tightly, as I say, "Just like fucking that …"

"So is this why you wouldn't come in with us?" a voice asks, before someone taps me on the shoulder. "You've got a girlfriend?"

Turning around, I smile when I see the three witches of Soho standing behind me. "Hi!" I say, and laugh.

"Who the hell are you?" Rosalie asks, curling her lip. "Eddie? Who are these … um … girls?"

"This, ladies," I say, spinning Rose again, "is a girl, and she happens to be my friend. Does that help?"

"Fucking arse …" the red head says, as she wobbles off on her sky scraper heels, with her two cohorts toddling along behind her.

"You should have a girlfriend, Edward," Rose says, stroking my hair. "You really should. You're quite a catch, you know? You're clever, good looking, you have great prospects, you're worth a fortune and you have magical fingers! Christ, I'd fucking marry you if you asked and would even wait until our wedding night to fuck you!" she laughs, as she throws her head back.

Her long, elegant, creamy neck almost seems to sparkle in the lights dazzling off the massive chandeliers that reflect the multi-coloured light show that moves in time with the throbbing music and I fight the urge to slide my fingers down her skin.

"Don't talk shit …" Pulling her upright, I continue, "You wouldn't like me, I promise you and anyway, I don't want any of that nonsense in my life. I will never marry, or even live, with anyone, Rosalie."

"Why not?" she asks, staring at my mouth.

"Because …"

"Because what?" she asks, as I turn her away from me and pull her arms firmly behind her, clutching both of her slender wrists in one hand. "Oh God, that feels soooo good," she groans, dropping her head onto my shoulder as I stretch her. "Oh Christ … Eddie … that's … that's just … fucking amazing … what are you doing to me …?"

"Dancing …" I whisper. My lips graze her neck and she involuntarily shivers.

"This feels more like sex, on the dance floor …" she says, staring at me.

"Oh, Rose …" I say, as I lick up her carotid, and continue, "I promise you, this isn't how I have sex …"

"Show me …" she says, trailing her fingers down my chest. "Come on …" she continues, as she leans in and kisses me firmly on the lips. "Show me, Eddie … stop teasing me. Show me …"

I shake my head, and as I sigh, she takes her chance and presses her tongue between my lips. Without thinking, I grab a handful of her hair and yank her closer towards me.

Pulling her head to the side, I open my mouth fully and kiss her back. As I move my hands down her body, I press myself against her and groan, before I kiss along her jawline.

"Oh, Eddie …" she whispers. "Take me home …"

I need to stop this right now because I'm risking a lot by taking things much too far tonight. If I don't, I'm going to drag her into one of the toilets and fuck her brains out. I can't do that for two reasons. Firstly, I've promised Katy and Carlisle and secondly, I don't want to ruin our friendship. I know that my friendship with Jasper is over, I know that, but I don't want to lose their families. I really don't. So instead, I change the subject and play to Rose's vanity and ego.

"Get back in there to your love struck boyfriend, Rose. And stop fucking trying to fuck me! You know that we'd be a fucking disaster together! We'd be great in the bedroom, but would want to kill one another after the first week! I have no idea why you're being so horrible to Theo. He seems a nice enough chap." I say, laughing, as I pull away from her and slap her backside.

"Oh Christ, Eddie," she groans. "Why can't we just spend one night together? Huh? Why do you always start something that you refuse to end? And let's face it, who would we hurt?"

"You started it, Rose, not me. And you'd hurt your poor boyfriend, Rosalie, if we did that!" I say, shaking my head. "Come on, I know that you're a bitch, but that's a bit much, even coming from you!"

"Shit. I don't want to go back in there! I really don't! He bores me fucking witless! We've been fucking for months now, and he hasn't made me cum once, you know? He can't last more than a couple of minutes, and usually, he touches my tits and cums. I spend the entire time using my fingers and he gets so excited watching me masturbate, that he cums again. I've told him I will chop his balls off if he gets his spunk in my hair again, and believe you me, I'm not fucking kidding! His dick is so small that I can hardly even tell if we've fucked or not!"

"Then why the fuck are you with him?" I ask. "You're using him, and that's really cruel, and if you don't want him, why don't you give poor Emmett a chance?"

"What do you mean?" she asks. She stops moving immediately. "Why on earth would I do that?" she says. She's now standing staring at me. "Emmett? Give him a chance at what?"

"Fucking you, you stupid idiot!" I laugh.

"Fucking me?" she asks, looking genuinely confused. "He wants to fuck me? Em? He's never shown any interest in girls. Especially me. He's got three loves; rugby, beer and the law. Nothing else. Why on earth do you think that he's interested in me?"

I let go of her and walk towards the bar. "Every man wants to fuck you, Rose. You know that, in fact, lots of girls want to get inside your knickers too. Come on! You have to know it!"

"Well, I know that, of course I do, and I've fucked more men than I care to remember, but Emmett? Never!" she says, genuinely surprised.

"He is head over heels for you, Rose, and always has been! I can't believe that you didn't know this? Christ. Don't you ever look around you? Anyway, now that you know, why don't you just give it a try? You don't know, you might find that he's right for you. Go on, ask him out!"

"Don't be ludicrous," she says, scowling as she walks towards me. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because," I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, "he's been utterly smitten and in love with you since we were all kids. Whereas Jasper and I used to wank as we sniffed the crotch of your knickers, Emmett used to hold one of your thongs lovingly to the side of his face and used his hand instead! He's always loved you!"

"You lot were disgusting little gits," she says, not sounding disgusted at all as she turns to look towards the private room. "But I didn't know about Emmett … are you sure, Eddie? If you are right, I really didn't …"

"No, you didn't, Rose know about him," I say, seriously now, "because you were always too busy fucking all our other friends to notice him. He's a good man, Rose. He's kind and caring. He is very different to me, I'm a bastard and I won't ever settle down. Give him a try."

"Why on earth would I do that?" she asks, frowning. "Why? He isn't what I want! Come on, Edward! You know what I'm like! I'm a shallow bitch! I couldn't settle for someone like Emmett McCarty! Christ, he's only just qualified, Edward. He doesn't have much money and he's living at home with his parents again. Why on earth would I do that?"

"Well, you're still living at home with your folks, Rosalie," I say, crossly, "And you're working as an assistant book editor at your family publishing company. You aren't exactly setting the literary world on fire yet, are you? What's the difference?"

"Yes, well, that really is somewhat different. It's mummy and daddy's company and will be mine one day. I get a much bigger salary than any of the other assistant editors—though don't tell anyone that I said that. Daddy buys me whatever I need … you know I'm a spoiled brat … I like the best of everything … you know that. So, no …" she says, looking back towards Emmett. "I don't think so … I don't think so … Eddie … it wouldn't work … anyway, I have a date. And I don't fancy Em … I don't …" she says, unconvincingly. "And I've been with Theo for a while now … you know? He cares about me … he does …"

"Who are you trying to convince, Rose?" I ask, seriously as I pull her close again. "Huh? Can't you just give Emmett a chance? He's going to be a fantastic lawyer and I think we could be partners in a law firm one day, so he will be earning really good money. I knew you were a shallow bitch, but I thought that you were reasonably decent too …"

"Yes, well, Edward," she says, sharply, "I'm not. I like nice things, and Theo is worth a fortune. He doesn't have your kind of wealth and yes, I know what Cullen Enterprises is worth because I looked up your profile," she continues. As I scowl, she sighs, "Don't look at me like that, I'm a nosy bitch, so of course I've looked!"

"You're something else, Rosalie Masen, you really are. I honestly didn't think that you were quite as vacuous as this …" I grumble, shaking my head in disbelief as I stare at her perfect face.

"Yes, well, there you go, Eddie, you now know that I am. And I'm on a date with my baronet, so I need to behave myself. Come on, I should really get back to him … we're flying to Cannes together tomorrow to visit his cousin's villa. He's related to royalty, you know? And this villa is the one that Prince Charles and Camilla stayed in a couple of weeks ago," she says. For once, she doesn't sound smug as we walk, slowly, back towards Emmett and Theo. In fact, she sounds quite sad as she continues. "I've promised him that I'll go with him and his mother is throwing a reception for us, you know? We're even flying by a private jet from Northolt. I can't back out now … he has everything … everything. I need this, Edward, you know? He has everything that I aspire to …"

"Jesus! Don't fuck someone because they have money, Rose!" I bark out, horrified. "For fuck's sake! If having nice things means that much to you, I'll give you some of my fucking money! I've got more than I'll ever be able to spend, Christ! Rosalie!"

"I'm not a whore, Edward!" she says. Stopping suddenly, she spins to look at me. "I don't shag men for cash, but I can't be with someone who's poor! I just like nice things! And remember something, if you'd played fair, I wouldn't have had to settle for …"

"Settle for what?" I ask her, scowling. "If you mean that you and I would have ended up together, Rose, I'm sorry, but you're sadly mistaken. I fancied the arse off you for years, of course I did, and I still do in fact. Every bloody one with a pair of balls does, but like I told you when I used my fingers on you—and yes, of course I fucking remember how that felt, and tasted—I won't jeopardise my friendship with your family for a quick meaningless fuck! Not that any of that fucking matters now …"

"What do you mean? And why would it be meaningless?" she asks, sounding confused. "Didn't you know that mum and dad always wanted us to be together? So did I … I mean … we're virtually family any way, aren't we, Eddie?"

"Yes, well," I say, pushing the doors open and ushering her through, "I don't want to settle down with anyone, Rose, so you'd best just to settle down with Theo if that's what makes you happy. You would never be anything more than a notch on my head board, and I couldn't do that to Esme and Peter, or to you either come to that."

"Why can't we be like Jasper and Annabelle, Eddie? They fell in love at first sight, didn't they?" she asks. When I don't respond, she tugs my arm to stop me. "You must be very proud of yourself, matching up your two best friends?" she continues, smiling a genuinely happy smile as she continues. "I was as shocked as everyone else that he met a girl and got engaged. I thought he was a shirt lifter myself, but Aunt Charlotte is delighted with Anna. She comes from quite a good family, so Uncle Garrett is thrilled that she isn't some council estate oik. Aren't you happy for them?"

Ignoring her final comments, I sigh, "I won't get married, and I won't have conventional relationships in my life, simply because I don't love anyone, Rose," I say, firmly. "No one."

"Answer my question, Eddie. Why aren't you pleased that they've fallen in love?" she repeats.

"Because, Rosalie," I sigh, "I don't give a fuck one way or another what either of them do. It's up to them, and has sod all to do with me."

"That's crap, Edward," she says. "You do care what happens between them because you love all of us. You're such a silly boy," she says, brightly. Then she twirls across the room and lands in a heap on a slightly befuddled looking Theo's lap. "You know you do. So, if you don't want me," she continues, completely nonplussed that Theo and Emmett are listening, "are you upset about Jasper and Annabelle getting together because you've finally come out of the closet and have decided that you want a piece of my cousin's arse after all these years? We all always wondered if you were gay. Apart from daddy, of course, he wouldn't know what that was if it bit him on the arse! I thought you swung both ways, as did mum, but I would still have had you!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rose," I say, feeling my face burn as I open another bottle of champagne. I deliberately shake it a little bit so that when I wrench the cork out, I can spray her with the ice cold liquid. "I don't fancy your cousin. And I'm not fucking gay!" I snap, as she squeals as the bubbly alcohol trickles down her face, and uses Theo's discarded tuxedo jacket to dry herself.

I can't even force myself to say his name.

"You fucking prick!" she yelps. "You owe me a visit to the hairdresser!"

"I think you can pay for that yourself, I dread to think how much the bar bill is going to be tonight." I say, flatly.

"Aren't you happy for them?" Emmett asks, as he helps himself to some caviar. "I thought Jazz was a grubby looking, grungy nerd, to be honest. I didn't think he would manage to pull a hottie like Anna. She's a bit of alright, don't you think? Isn't she a close friend of yours, Edward?"

"No, she isn't a close friend of mine, we've only known one another for a short time, and can we please change the fucking subject? All this shit about 'love at first sight' is making the oysters threaten to make a reappearance," I grumble. "So unless you want chunks of shell fish in your hair, shut up."

"Why did you take her to mum and dad's for Christmas if she isn't a close friend?" Rosalie asks.

"Shut up, Rose," I sigh, before I turn my back on her and scan the room. Groaning, I run my hands through my hair when I see the three girls from earlier are leaning against the bar, smiling at me.


"I think you've got a bit of a fan club over there, Ed," Emmett says, as he knocks back another glass of bubbly.

"Don't remind me …" I mutter.

"Oh for fuck's sake. She has no fucking shame …" Emmett mutters, and as he shakes his head sadly, I follow his eyes. As I turn around, my stomach churns even more as I see that Rose is now sitting astride Theo's lap, sucking his face off, as she bounces up and down on top of him. I have no idea how she can do that with someone that she obviously doesn't even fancy, but then, who am I to judge?

"THEO! FOR FUCK SAKE!" she suddenly barks out. "You've fucking cum all over my shorts! What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yelps. After leaping off him, she slaps his arm hard. "Get me something to clean up! NOW!"


"I'm … I'm … I'm … thowwy … Wosawie …" he stammers. "It's just … just … just … you're knickers … are tho wet … thowwy …"

"You're fucking useless, Theo!" she says, as she hits him again. "You really need to go to the doctor! You can't even last for five minutes!"

"It'th onwy becauwse you're tho desiwablwe, Wowsie. Forgive me? Pwease?"

Screwing my face up at them, I head towards the bar, thanking the God's that I will never have a partner for anything other than physical gratification. Gesturing to the barman, I grab an unopened bottle of tequila and four shot glasses, along with slices of lime and a dish of salt and put them on the table. Leaving my friends laughing as Rose tries to clean herself out, I head off to the loos. I ignore the two men fucking in front of the urinals, and when I come back from the toilet, Miss Leather from the queue outside is still standing at the bar, watching me. She waves to me and I half-heartedly wave back, but I don't move towards her. Instead, I turn my back on her, and sit and get smashed with Rose, Theo and Em. The tequila mixes with the champagne and that, combined with the heat and loud music, and my head starts to throb.

"I see that this isn't an entirely VIP section, after all," Rose says, sighing as she looks at the leather-clad girl. "It would seem that they'll let any kind of skanky girl in here these days, Theo. Perhaps we should take our patronage elsewhere in future?"

"Christ, Rose," I say, shaking my head. "You're such a fucking snob. She seems like a nice enough girl, stop being such a bitch."

"Yes, well," she says, before she begins sipping her champagne, "I am a bitch and don't purport to be anything else, do I, Eddie? Now, order some more fizz, we're running low.

Waving my hand towards the waitress, I order another two bottles of Krug, and some more snacks.

"Jasper met up with that friend of yours the other day, Eddie," Rose says, as she trails her fingers up the inside of Theo's thigh. The small bump in his trousers isn't very impressive and all I can hope for Rose is that his fingers and tongue make up for his other short comings, and that he doesn't shoot his load in public again tonight.

"Oh," I say, trying to sound disinterested. "I don't know what you're talking about," I continue, as I knock back another shot.

"Alice. You know? The short one with black hair? I always thought that you two were fucking but that she fancied me. I got an odd vibe whenever she was around. She couldn't take her eyes off my chest. Is she a dyke, Eddie?"

"She is a lesbian, Rose. I love how eloquent you are tonight, and yes, you're quite right, she did fancy you!" I laugh, and after opening yet another bottle of champagne, I pour more drinks for everyone.

"Well," Rose says, guffawing loudly—the alcohol is taking effect and her ladylike façade is slipping fast—"who could blame her! Look at these bad boys!" she says, yanking her top up and flashes her bare breasts in our direction. As Theo squeaks, she grabs the sides of her breasts and squeezes them together. They are so big, that her cleavage almost reaches her chin when she does this. Laughing loudly, she smoothes her top back down, and seems oblivious to the fact that every conversation in the room has stopped and that all eyes are on her. She grabs her hair and twists it up, exposing her long neck. Tendrils spill down the sides of her face and over her shoulders, and she's deliciously flushed. She looks beautiful as she stares at Emmett, all humour now gone.


Poor Emmett. His chin almost hits his chest and he fights to compose himself.

"Close your mouth, Em," I say, grabbing a handful of pistachios and fling them at him, "It's not like we haven't seen her tits before. She's never been shy about flashing them, has she? Every excuse, whether it's changing her clothes, getting drunk or that she's too hot, she whips them out, calm down!"

"No, it's not a surprise and yes, I've seen them many, many times, Edward, but God," he says, brushing the shells and salt off his jeans, "they never fail to impress, do they? Isn't she lovely?"

"Yes," I say, smiling at him. "I know how much you like her …"

Em and I sit and chat for a bit longer, and I smile because although he tries to concentrate on me, his eyes constantly wander towards the blonde beauty opposite us. It must be very hard to sit and watch someone you like kissing and touching another man.

The alcohol and strenuous exercise take their toll, and after Rose and Theo make their excuses and leave the club, I tell Emmett that I'm knackered and want to go home. He can't believe that I had rowed down to Greenwich this afternoon because he's not the most confident of swimmers.

"Isn't it really fast flowing or something?" he asks, scowling.

"Yes," I say, shrugging, "But that's part of the fun. It's dangerous, risky and hard work, Em," I continue, as I eat some crisps, "but I enjoy it."

Smiling as he tells me about his winning try in the match last weekend, hence the remnants of a black eye that he's still sporting, I quickly pay the exorbitant bill and head out into the cold, damp night, tugging my jacket on as I look for a taxi.

"Are you going my way, Mister?" a voice asks from behind me. Frowning, I turn around and Miss Leather dress is leaning against the corner of the elaborate building, smoking a cigarette.

"What way would that be?" I ask, smiling as I stagger towards her. The cold air and alcohol have suddenly taken their toll and I am struggling to remain in one position as my feet resolutely try to do their own thing.

"The quickest way to a hard, fast fuck?" she says, walking towards me.

She really is very lovely and cursing Katy for her orgasm ban, I shake my head. "Sadly, I'm not going that way. Not for the next few weeks, anyway …"

"Why? Have you got a rash or something?" she asks. "I don't mind, I really don't! I've had the odd rash myself and I just do a quick trip down to the clinic and get some antibiotics, and if we use a condom, it doesn't matter what you have. Come on, pretty boy, let's go back to your place and show me what you can do with that massive bulge of yours … and I saw you and your girlfriend arguing on the dance floor. I don't want a relationship, I just want to fuck. What do you think? My knickers have been wet since I saw you in there. Come on, help a girl out!"

"Well, I'm sorry about that, but there's nothing I can do to help your predicament," I say, turning the sides of my mouth downwards in a mock grimace. "You will just have to go home and play with yourself, I'm afraid."

At least she can masturbate. I fucking well can't.

"What do you mean?" she asks, frowning. "Play with myself? Why the fuck would I do that when you and that thing," she says, pointing to my crotch, "can play with me instead. You can do anything you want, you know. My friend had to give that ugly doorman a fucking blow job so that we could get into the VIP room, and she only did that so that we could get near you! Come on! Give a girl a break!"

"Unfortunately, however much I would like to—and I promise you, I'd really like to fuck all three of you right now—I can't. Not for the next thirteen days, anyway," I chuckle as the orange signed taxi pulls up beside me and I jump inside. "If we meet again, I'll take you up on your generous offer, and I'll even provide the condoms, but I can't even fuck my usual bed fellows for the next few weeks, so no hard feelings. Bye!"

"WHAT THE FUCK?" she bellows out. Everyone in the street turns around to look at her. As we drive off, I can see her face twisting in rage as she shakes her fist at me, it's quite funny actually, because she slips on the cobbles, falls down and lands on her backside. Laughing to myself, I flop back in the seat and head back to the South Bank, proud that for once, I've managed to adhere to most of Carlisle and Katy's demands.


When I wake up on Sunday morning, my head feels like several dozen small men, wearing steel toe-capped boots, at tap dancing their way around my brain. Why the fuck I always drink tequila is beyond me, because I always end up in the same state and swear that I'll never do it again.

Something has woken me up and all I want right now is an extra-strong, extra-large cup of espresso coffee to wake me up. Sitting up, I scratch my bristle covered chin and squint into the much too bright sunshine, just as the phone rings.

Ah. That's what would have woken me up then.

"Hello?" I ask, sounding groggy. Why the fuck does Tequila make your tongue feel as if you have an entire lawn attached to the surface of it? "Who is it and what the fuck do you want? Some people are trying to sleep here!"

"Edward?" Katy asks, sounding concerned. "What's the matter, boy?"

"Nothing …" I say, covering my flaccid cock quickly as I realise how shitty I must have sounded to her ears. "You just woke me up and I'd planned on having a lie in …" I grumble.



"Sorry … you woke me up, Mistress …"

"Please tell me that you haven't been drinking? Have you? Tell me the truth because, if you lie to me after I gave you an express order not to drink for two weeks, I'll use a narrow cane to beat you with that will split your skin and bruise you so badly that you won't be able to row a fucking boat again for a month. TELL ME!"

Oh bollocks. I'm in big shit this time.

"Merde! Cullen! Je ne veux pas baiser un autre! Je veux seulement à nique ta mère! Son coq est la grandeur d'un petit doigt! S'il vous plaît! Dites que vous me voulez aussi!"


"Shit! Cullen! I don't want to fuck anyone else! I only want to fuck you! His cock is the size of a small finger! Please! Say that you want me too!" she begs.


Hope you enjoyed it! Much as I enjoy writing sex scenes and the BDSM aspects of this story, my favourite thing by far is writing, and researching, our lad. Bless his heart, he is surrounded by people who genuinely care about him, but he's built such a wall of self-preservation around himself, he just can't see it.

More soon