Marked and Owned

The door closed softly behind him.

Phil stepped into the warm glow of the entryway, wearing a black dress shirt with the top button open, sleeves casually rolled. He carried no overnight bag, just a slim velvet box tucked beneath one arm, and a knowing smile that deepened when he heard Sally’s heels approach.

She appeared at the top of the stairs, radiant in her deep green slip dress, sheer black hold-ups accentuating every step as she descended. “Well,” she purred, “I did say I’d be ready.”

Phil took her in slowly, with visible appreciation. “You never disappoint.”

They kissed at the foot of the stairs, slow, deep, familiar.

Then Sally pulled back, lips glossy. “Come. I have something, or someone, you’ll want to see.”Tammy was still in her place, perched obediently on the padded chair in the bedroom, plugged and caged, back straight, hands resting on her thighs. She’d been sitting there since Sally left, each minute only heightening the ache in her little pink cage.

When Sally opened the door and Phil stepped inside, Tammy’s heart skipped.

Phil paused.

Tammy looked up through her lashes.

“Well,” Phil said, voice low and amused, “don’t you look… eager.”

“She’s been like this for over half an hour,” Sally said, smiling. “Rocking, waiting, soaking through her cage just from the feel of nylon and her own helplessness.”

Phil stepped closer, his gaze drifting over Tammy’s sheer stockings, the frilled maid uniform, the collar snug at her throat. “I like the look.”

“She’s mine,” Sally said. “But she serves us both.”

Phil nodded, then set the slim velvet box on the bed and opened it with care.

Inside: two delicate gold anklets, shining under the soft light.

The first was feminine and sleek, the letters H-O-T-W-I-F-E spaced evenly across it in fine gold script.

The second was slightly thinner, more delicate still, and spelled out a single word in curving rose-gold letters:

S-I-S-S-Y

Tammy gasped softly.

Phil held them up, letting the light catch.

“For my girls,” he said simply. “One owned in body, one in service. Both adored.”

Sally stepped forward first, offering her ankle with a graceful lift of her heel. Phil crouched and clipped the anklet into place just above her stocking welt.

Sally looked down and smiled. “Perfect.”

Then he turned to Tammy.

She hesitated, but only for a breath, before lifting her leg as best she could from the chair.

Phil knelt again, hands steady, and fastened the delicate “Sissy” chain around her ankle. It rested just above the sheen of her hold-ups.

“There,” he said, thumb brushing over her skin. “Now you’re marked.”

Tammy flushed pink, the anklet warm against her skin.

Sally stepped beside her and ran a hand along her thigh. “You’re officially his too, now. Doesn’t that feel… right?”

Tammy nodded.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Phil rose and kissed Sally again. “Let’s enjoy her tonight.”

Sally grinned. “Oh, we will.”

Mirror Discipline

The bedroom was quiet except for the soft rustle of satin and nylon.

Tammy remained in her cuck chair, spine straight, breathing steady, still filled and plugged by the mounted dildo beneath her. She’d stayed like that since Sally welcomed Phil in, her hands resting obediently on her thighs, her mind humming with anticipation.

Sally entered first, barefoot now, Wolford hold-ups clinging perfectly to her legs, the gold Hotwife anklet flashing with each step. She stood in front of Tammy, hands on her hips, eyes warm but commanding.

“You may rise.”

Tammy carefully lifted herself from the chair with a soft gasp, the dildo slipping from inside her. Her cage pulsed as the pressure eased.

Sally nodded toward the drawer. “Plug. Now.”

Tammy retrieved the smaller silicone plug—soft, narrow, curved at just the right angle. She bent over the bed, legs spread, and slid it in with slow precision. Her breath hitched as it seated snugly inside her.

Sally smirked. “Better.”

Phil entered next, shirt off now, trousers undone. His gaze flicked to Tammy’s maid uniform, her flushed cheeks, the way her thighs trembled with every movement.

Sally gestured to the full-length mirror now positioned at the edge of the bed. “Tammy, kneel there.”

Tammy obeyed, settling on the pillow before it, now face to face with herself.

The reflection was stark and undeniable.

The puffed sleeves. The tiny frilled apron. The pink Sissy cage glinting between sheer-stockinged thighs. Her new gold anklet shone just above her welt. The plug inside her made her chest rise and fall in shallow breaths.

“Look at you,” Sally said softly from behind. “That’s who you are now.”

Tammy nodded faintly, lips parted.

“I want you to watch yourself,” Sally continued, stepping beside her and placing a hand on her head. “You don’t get to forget this. Not while you’re serving.”

She turned toward Phil, who now sat on the bed, fully naked, already thickening at the sight.

“Tammy,” Sally said, “go thank him for coming.”

Tammy crawled forward, knees spreading slightly, plug tugging with every shift. She paused in front of Phil and bowed her head.

“Thank you for being here, Sir,” she whispered.

Phil nodded.

Sally stepped closer, guiding Tammy’s hand to his thigh. “Now, sweetheart. Show him what I’ve taught you.”

Tammy leaned in, lips parting.

Sally crouched beside her, fingers curling gently around her arm. “Slow. Tongue first. Eyes up.”

Tammy began with soft licks, just as she had practiced on the dildo. She circled the head with her tongue, then kissed it once, reverently.

Phil let out a low groan.

“Good girl,” Sally whispered. “Deeper now. Let him feel your submission.”

Tammy took him slowly into her mouth, cheeks hollowing slightly, the plug inside her pressing firmly with each bob of her head.

Sally ran her hand along Tammy’s thigh. “Look at your reflection. Look how pretty you are.”

Tammy’s eyes flicked sideways to the mirror—her maid dress shifting with each movement, stockings gleaming, her gold anklet catching the light.

“You’re our little service girl,” Sally whispered, brushing Tammy’s hair back from her face. “You exist to please.”

Phil’s breathing deepened. Tammy moaned softly around him.

Sally smiled. “And look how grateful you are to be allowed.”

Tammy took him deeper now, slow and steady, her body trembling with effort and pride.

When Sally finally pulled her gently back, her lips glistened, her mouth open, breath heavy.

“Back to your chair,” Sally said. “Now.”

Tammy crawled, cheeks flushed, and once in place, turned her back to the others, bent over slightly, and carefully removed the plug.

Then, wordlessly, she lowered herself back onto the waiting dildo, rocking gently, locked up and filled once more.

Sally leaned in and whispered, “You’ll stay there now, until I call you again.”

Tammy nodded, still watching herself in the mirror, lost in the reflection of exactly who she had become.

The Count of Her Pleasures

Tammy sat perfectly still, perched on the dildo in her chair, her plug removed and set neatly on a velvet cloth nearby. Her sheer hold-ups clung tightly to her trembling thighs, the pink Sissy cage resting against the edge of her silky maid uniform.

The mirror across the room reflected her entire form, flushed cheeks, parted lips, filled and motionless. A gold anklet shimmered on one ankle, catching the candlelight like a collar made for her leg.

Sally stood just beyond, completely at ease, trailing her fingers over Phil’s chest as he sat on the bed. Her green slip had slid low enough to expose one perfectly curved breast. Her Wolford hold-ups hugged her legs with flawless sheen. The gold Hotwife anklet winked above the seam.

She glanced over at Tammy.

“Sissy,” she said sweetly, “how do you feel?”

Tammy swallowed. “Full, Mistress.”

“Full,” Sally echoed, smiling. “Stuffed in your cage… filled below… but empty where it matters most.”

Tammy looked down, her face flushed. “Yes, Mistress.”

Phil chuckled low in his throat. “She’s beautiful like that.”

“She is,” Sally said, walking slowly toward the cuck chair, heels clicking. “Beautiful. Helpless. And completely mine.”

She reached down and stroked Tammy’s cheek, then lightly brushed a finger along the top of the cage. Tammy whimpered.

Sally leaned in close, lips near her ear.

“You’re going to watch everything tonight. Every inch. Every sound. You’re going to watch what real pleasure looks like.”

Tammy’s cage throbbed visibly.

“And while you sit,” Sally continued, stepping away toward the bed, “you’re going to count every time I come.”

Tammy blinked. “Count, Mistress?”

Sally eased onto the bed, reclining against Phil’s chest, her legs draped over his lap. “Out loud. Every climax. Because I’m a greedy girl tonight, and I’m not letting Phil finish until I’ve had… five.”

She smirked. “Minimum.”

Tammy’s breath caught.

Phil was already hard, his hands exploring beneath Sally’s slip as she lay back against the pillows. Her head tilted, lips parted as she moaned softly under his touch.

Tammy watched, frozen and aching, as Phil slid down and disappeared between Sally’s legs, her thighs spreading, her sheer stockings framing the scene like silk ribbons.

She gasped.

“That’s one,” Sally said with a breathless laugh. “Count it, Sissy.”

Tammy swallowed. “One, Mistress.”

“Louder,” Sally moaned.

Tammy’s voice trembled. “One, Mistress!”

Phil’s tongue worked with practiced, eager rhythm. Sally arched and shuddered again.

“Two,” she gasped. “Already. Say it, Sissy.”

“Two, Mistress!” Tammy cried.

Phil chuckled, glancing up briefly. “We may hit ten.”

Sally’s hands gripped the sheets. “Three,” she groaned. “Fuck—three.”

Tammy’s eyes were wide. “Three, Mistress!”

Her cage was dripping now, a clear trail glistening against the glossy tops of her stockings. She rocked slightly without even realizing it, the dildo still buried deep inside her, the pressure building with every sound of her Mistress’s pleasure.

“Four,” Sally moaned, writhing against Phil’s tongue. “She’s so good, isn’t she, Sissy? Watching you, wet for me, while I get what you never will.”

Tammy choked on a moan. “Four, Mistress!”

Sally’s fifth came fast, sudden and loud, a shuddering wave that sent her arching into the air, clutching at Phil’s shoulders.

“Five,” she panted.

Tammy gasped. “Five, Mistress.”

Sally sat up, slick and glowing, eyes on her caged sissy.

“And I’m not done yet.”

Beneath Her Pleasure

The room pulsed with low light and heavy breath. The air was thick with the scent of sex, of nylon, of submission and satisfaction. Sally knelt over the bed, her hands gripping the headboard, her legs spread wide in black hold-ups that shimmered beneath her green silk slip.

The Hotwife anklet on her right ankle winked with each subtle shift of her hips.

Below her, beneath the warmth of her thighs, beneath the weight of her pleasure, Tammy lay on her back, her face flushed, lips parted. Her view was framed entirely by the inside of Sally’s legs: smooth black nylon brushing against her cheeks, the scent of Sally’s arousal on the air. Her hands rested lightly on Sally’s thighs, fingertips just beneath the taut line of the garters.

Phil was above them both now, slow, controlled, powerful.

Sally gasped with each thrust, her voice deep and ragged. “God… you stretch me like he never could…”

Tammy moaned softly beneath her.

Sally looked down between her arms. “How does it feel, Sissy? Knowing I’m so full… so wide… because of him?”

Tammy didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her cage was dripping again, obvious and shining. The plug had been removed, and she was left bare, locked, and twitching.

When Phil slipped, Tammy moved instinctively, mouth open, tongue out. She caught him quickly, kissed him, then guided him back to Sally, who moaned as she was filled again.

“Good girl,” Sally murmured. “You know your place now.”

Phil groaned, deeper now. Sally’s head dropped back. “Yes… just like that…”

Tammy’s hands gripped the back of Sally’s stockings, feeling every pulse and tremor through the nylon.

Sally’s voice was shaking. “These stockings, baby… I wore them for you. So you’d feel every inch of me… when you serve. When you worship.”

Phil was close now, his rhythm faltering, muscles taut.

Sally pulled Tammy’s head tighter between her legs. “When he finishes,” she whispered, “I want you to feel it. See it. On my legs. On your Mistress.”

Moments later, Phil shuddered and gasped, pulling back just enough to coat Sally’s thighs, thick warmth landing across her stockings and lower calf. It spilled across her ankle, catching the golden chain in glossy streaks.

Sally laughed, breathless. “Oh my god…”

She looked down between her legs at Tammy.

“Clean me,” she said.

Tammy obeyed, tenderly, reverently. Her tongue traced up the inside of her Mistress’s thighs, along the wet nylon, around the delicate gold anklet that now shimmered with fresh sheen.

Sally sighed, basking. “That’s it, Sissy. You take care of your betters.”

She reached down and toyed with Tammy’s cage, letting her fingers ghost across it, brushing the sensitive skin beneath. “So full. So useless. And yet you love this.”

Tammy trembled, lips still wrapped around her Mistress’s ankle, kissing where silk met skin.

And in that moment, under her weight, her pleasure, and her claim—she did.

Earned and Marked

The bedroom had quieted to a soft pulse, only the ticking of the wall clock and the low rustle of silk remained. Phil was now reclining back against the headboard, thoroughly spent, his chest rising and falling with easy satisfaction. Sally, however, was still glowing, legs parted slightly, her stockinged thighs glistening with the mingled evidence of earlier release. Her Hotwife anklet gleamed at her ankle, wet and shining.

Tammy remained kneeling on the bed beside her, lips slightly parted, still in her maid uniform, still wearing Sally’s used stockings. Her cage was tight and visibly twitching, her cheeks flushed, thighs trembling.

Sally looked down at her, her smile soft but commanding.

“You’ve done beautifully today, Sissy,” she said, her voice a warm murmur. “You’ve cleaned. Served. Worshipped. Helped me and him. Without hesitation.”

Tammy swallowed, blinking quickly. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“You’ve earned a reward.”

She reached to the nightstand and retrieved the key, slim and silver, still warm from her palm.

“Hold still,” she whispered.

With a practiced motion, she unlocked the pink cage. Tammy gasped as her cock sprang free, flushed, sensitive, and aching from hours of denial. Sally ran her fingers gently along its length.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “Throbbing like you’ve been waiting your whole life.”

“I have,” Tammy whispered.

Sally smiled. “And now… you’ll wait just a little longer.”

She sat up straighter, arranging her legs so that her stockinged ankle, still slick with Phil’s release, rested just beside Tammy’s hip.

“Lie back,” she said. “Arms at your sides. And start to stroke.”

Tammy did as told, her hand wrapping around herself at last. She moaned almost instantly, hips already bucking in shallow rhythm.

Sally leaned in. “You’ll edge until I say.”

Tammy nodded, lips tight with focus.

Sally’s voice stayed low and smooth. “I want you to stop every time you’re close. I want you to suffer a little more, for me. For us.”

Tammy stroked slowly, leaking already, the tension built to the edge.

“I’m close, Mistress,” she gasped.

“Stop.”

Tammy whimpered, pulling her hand away. Her entire body twitched with effort.

Sally trailed a finger along her own thigh, drawing Tammy’s gaze. “You’ve watched everything tonight. Seen me opened, stretched, soaked in him. You’ve felt your own lips on our skin.”

Tammy moaned softly, hips shifting.

“Again,” Sally commanded.

Tammy resumed, her breath catching quickly, louder this time.

Sally stroked the top of her foot against Tammy’s hip. “You’ve earned it, baby. All your devotion. All your silence. All your need.”

Tammy’s voice shook. “I-I’m close again…”

“Stop.”

She pulled away, crying out, her thighs shaking.

Sally smiled, reaching forward to stroke her once, twice, slow and possessive.

“I want it here,” she whispered, sliding her hand down her own leg, stopping just above her ankle. “Right over the Hotwife. Where he marked me first. Where your mouth cleaned every drop.”

Tammy nodded, eyes glassy.

“Come for me.”

She obeyed with a soft, desperate cry, her hand moving in quick, trembling strokes. Seconds later, her climax burst forth, hot, fast, wet, across Sally’s stocking and the anklet, glistening in the low light.

Tammy collapsed back, breathless, thighs trembling.

Sally looked down with satisfaction. “Messy girl.”

She stood, one leg still resting against Tammy’s side, and then offered it forward. “Clean it.”

Tammy rose and licked gently, reverently, up the length of her Mistress’s ankle and lower leg, collecting every trace of her own release from the fabric.

When the stocking was spotless again, Sally sat on the edge of the bed and peeled them from her legs.

“Now,” she said, tossing the damp pair onto Tammy’s lap, “give me the clean ones. You’ll be keeping these.”

Tammy removed the stockings she wore and handed them over. Then, she rolled Sally’s used pair up her legs, one at a time, still sticky, still warm from her own act of devotion.

Sally pulled the clean ones on slowly, securing each clip in place with a little snap.

She looked at Tammy and smiled. “You’re finally dressed how you should be, marked, full, and filthy.”

Tammy lowered her gaze.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

Sally kissed her cheek and whispered, “You’re welcome, my perfect little Sissy.”

Satin, Stockings, and Goodbye

The clock glowed quietly in the corner of the bedroom, nearly midnight. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, silk, and surrender. Sally lounged across the bed in her green slip, the straps fallen from her shoulders, her legs draped over Phil’s thighs. Tammy knelt on the rug beside the bed, her maid’s dress wrinkled and rumpled, Sally’s worn stockings clinging to her thighs.

Phil stretched, satisfied and bare chested, running a lazy hand up Sally’s calf.

“I should go,” he said, almost reluctantly.

Sally smirked. “Already plotting your return?”

He chuckled. “You’re both… addictive.”

Then, with a sly glance toward Tammy: “But before I go… I’d love one last treat. A send off from my girls.”

Tammy flushed. Sally raised an eyebrow, then grinned slowly. “Oh? A final blowjob before bedtime?”

Phil nodded.

Sally leaned forward, kissing him once. “Well, of course we’ll oblige.”

She turned her head. “Sissy. Front and center.”

Tammy rose, body aching, face already pink from anticipation. She joined Sally on the bed, settling between Phil’s legs as he reclined against the pillows.

Sally led the way, her lips wrapping around him with confidence and rhythm. Tammy watched closely, studying the way her Mistress took control with grace, then followed suit when Sally tilted her head in invitation.

Together, they worshipped.

Sally would take the base while Tammy kissed and licked the tip, then they’d switch, tongues meeting, lips brushing. Phil’s hands slid through their hair, breath growing ragged.

Sally moaned around him, then pulled off just enough to whisper, “We love pleasing you, don’t we, Sissy?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Tammy breathed, licking gently beneath the crown.

Phil was getting close.

Sally met Tammy’s gaze and smirked. “I think our girl deserves to be marked tonight.”

Phil grunted, no protest.

“On her face,” Sally whispered. “Let her wear it.”

Moments later, Phil tensed. Tammy opened her mouth instinctively and received her reward, hot and sudden, across her lips and cheeks.

She gasped as Sally watched, grinning with satisfaction.

“Hold still,” she murmured, brushing a thumb across Tammy’s slick cheek. “So pretty like this.”

Tammy knelt, flushed and shining, heartbeat wild.

Sally’s voice softened. “You’re dripping again.”

Tammy looked down. Her cock, free for now, was aching and wet.

Sally laughed gently. “You really can’t help yourself around my stockings, can you?”

“No, Mistress,” Tammy whispered.

“Well then,” Sally said, rising to her feet, “we should shower. But afterward? You’re getting caged again.”

Tammy nodded, smiling.

Later — The Bathroom

Steam drifted through the room as the shower ran. Sally stepped inside first, pulling Tammy in after her. They washed slowly, soft hands sliding over skin, the rhythm unhurried.

Tammy’s makeup melted away in soft streaks. Sally rubbed gentle circles along her scalp, then down her back, cupping her gently.

“This,” Sally whispered, “is my favorite part. When everything quiets down.”

“I love you,” Tammy whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. And I love my Sissy.”

Back in the Bedroom

Tammy stood by the bed, drying her legs. Sally handed her a nightgown, blush satin, low-cut, delicate. Sally’s own was black with lace trim. They dressed slowly, helping each other with the straps.

Then Sally reached for the stockings.

“These go back on.”

Tammy blinked. “To bed?”

“Yes. Me in the clean pair. You in the… sentimental ones.”

Tammy laughed softly, sliding the still warm, faintly scented stockings back up her legs.

Once they were dressed, Sally clipped the pink cage back in place, locking it with finality.

Then they curled into bed, legs tangled.

Sally sighed, fingers brushing along Tammy’s thigh.

“You did perfectly tonight,” she whispered. “Every task. Every stroke. You’re becoming something rare.”

Tammy smiled, resting her head on Sally’s chest.

“Thank you for letting me… be her.”

“I’m not letting you,” Sally said. “I’m choosing her. Every day.”

They lay in silence for a moment, only the sound of silk shifting.

Sally kissed her gently.

“Goodnight, Sissy.”

“Goodnight, Mistress.”

And beneath the sheen of stockings and the warmth of devotion, they slept, loved, claimed, complete.

New Roots, Same Rituals

The spring breeze carried the soft scent of rain and cut grass, filtering through the open windows of their rented townhouse. Stacked boxes lined the hallway, each labeled in Sally’s precise handwriting. A roll of silk ribbon rested atop the kitchen counter, next to a handwritten checklist, her third revision that week.

They were moving in a few days.

And not just anywhere.

To a house. Their house.

A sprawling, ivy-draped stone cottage in the countryside, tucked just far enough from the nearest village to feel private. Remote. Safe. There was a sunroom, a garden that Sally had already mentally assigned to Tammy’s care, and a second master bedroom they’d jokingly dubbed “Phil’s quarters.”

It was everything Sally had dreamed of, and everything she’d planned.

She stepped into the bedroom, holding a steaming mug of herbal tea in one hand, her Wolfords rolled halfway up her thighs. Tammy was kneeling at the foot of the bed, brushing out her long auburn hair with slow strokes, her nightgown pale and almost sheer in the morning light.

The length of her hair now reached her shoulder blades, thick and feminine. It was well beyond what Tammy had ever imagined tolerating, but it had become part of her identity, her softness. Her transformation.

“You need a salon day,” Sally murmured, stepping behind her and gently combing her fingers through the freshly brushed strands.

Tammy smiled. “I know.”

“Ears, nose, and navel pierced,” Sally added, trailing her fingers over each spot. “And now this mane. Soon you’ll need curlers and a stylist on call.”

“Maybe Mistress will book me a full day of pampering?”

“I just might,” Sally said, cupping her chin. “You’ve earned it.”

Their routine had only deepened over the past six months.

Phil visited regularly, three or four times a month. Always with respect, always with intensity. Sometimes it was dinner and a drink before he took Sally in the bedroom while Tammy watched. Other times, it was Tammy preparing everything, waiting already plugged and dressed before the knock on the door.

He brought them both small gifts. Luxury hosiery. A delicate plug with a pink jewel at the base. A gold trimmed leash for Tammy’s collar they hadn’t yet used, but planned to.

Sally had kept Tammy’s schedule strict but loving. Daily self care rituals. Weekly edge sessions. And every time Phil visited, Tammy was expected to be fully prepared, freshly shaved, perfectly dressed, and mentally present.

Sally’s authority had grown too.

No longer just Mistress in the bedroom, she was fully in charge of their life together. Bills, travel, furnishings, long-term plans. She made the final calls. Tammy obeyed gladly.

“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” Tammy asked, looking at their half-packed wardrobe.

Sally nodded, sitting beside her on the bed.

“All the time.”

They sat together in silence, their thighs touching, Tammy’s pierced navel just visible beneath the fabric of her gown.

“I don’t think I ever imagined myself like this,” Tammy said. “But now I can’t imagine being anything else.”

Sally smiled and leaned in, brushing a kiss against her temple.

“You’re becoming,” she whispered. “And next week, we start fresh. A home that’s ours. New rules. New rituals.”

Tammy’s eyes lit up. “New rituals?”

“Oh yes,” Sally said. “Every room will have its own little tradition.”

She slipped a hand between Tammy’s thighs, teasing gently through the fabric. “I think the sunroom should be for stocking worship. Natural light. Big windows. Can’t you just see me laid out in my Wolfords while you kneel at my feet?”

Tammy moaned softly, eyes fluttering.

“And the kitchen…” Sally whispered. “Aprons, yes. But nothing underneath.”

Tammy blushed. “Even if guests visit?”

“Especially if guests visit.”

They both laughed, falling back into the pillows, legs tangled in sheer nightgowns.

Outside, birds sang.

Inside, the future was already blooming.

Her Reflection, Her Room

The salon smelled faintly of coconut and peroxide, with the underlying hum of hairdryers and quiet pop music filling the space. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the walls, and every chair was occupied by women in various stages of transformation.

Tammy sat nervously in one of them, a black cape draped around her shoulders, her long auburn hair brushed out and gleaming in the light. Sally stood behind her with a magazine in hand and a wicked glint in her eye.

“I’m thinking soft waves. Something bouncy,” Sally said, flipping a page and showing a glossy photo of a honey-blonde bombshell. “But in this tone.”

Tammy stared at the image. The woman looked like a pin-up from a dream. “Mistress…”

Sally leaned down, whispering into her ear, “You’ve let it grow. Now let me shape it.”

The stylist, a tall woman with platinum hair and a nose ring, grinned. “She’s going to look stunning. You’ve got a perfect face for this kind of transformation.”

Tammy blushed.

Sally rested her hands on Tammy’s shoulders, fingers sliding down the cape. “We’re moving house today,” she said to the stylist. “A whole new life. So I want her to leave here feeling like she’s never going back to anything else.”

The stylist nodded. “Say no more.”

The cape was lifted. The foils came next. Then the soft buzz of scissors. Sally sipped her tea and watched every snip, every curl, every rinse. She made the final call on the shape of the bangs, the length at the back, the lift in the volume.

By the time it was done, Tammy looked up at her reflection and gasped.

The woman in the mirror was someone else, someone real. Soft golden tones framed her face in glossy waves. Her cheeks looked more delicate. Her lips, naturally full, looked fuller somehow.

Sally came to stand behind her, smoothing a hand over her shoulder.

“There,” she said. “Now you’re ready for your new room.”

Later — Arrival at the House

The countryside rolled out before them, endless green and winding lanes. When the gate finally opened and their car pulled up the gravel drive, Tammy clutched her skirt and stared in awe.

The house looked like it belonged in a magazine, stone walls half covered in ivy, white painted shutters, and a large wooden door with black iron hinges. Soft light poured from every window.

But it wasn’t the house Sally was watching. It was Tammy’s face.

Mia was already waiting at the door, waving excitedly in leggings, boots, and a fitted jumper. Her eyes widened when she saw Tammy step out of the car with her new hair.

“Oh my god!” she gasped. “You look gorgeous. Like something out of a perfume ad.”

Tammy flushed and smiled shyly. “Thank you…”

Sally pulled her suitcase out of the boot. “Show her the room, Mia.”

Mia practically bounced. “This way!”

Tammy’s Room

What had once been designed as a guest room, Phil’s quarters in a different life, was now a dream.

The double doors opened into a space awash in pastel pinks and soft whites. Plush carpeting hugged her heels. The centerpiece of the room was a princess style canopy bed with silk drapes and a padded velvet headboard. A white and rose gold vanity sat beneath a wide arched window, complete with a lighted mirror and drawers already stocked with brushes, gloss, foundation, and perfume.

Tammy gasped.

Mia turned to her, beaming. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.”

She opened the door to the walk-in wardrobe.

Tammy stepped inside, and nearly staggered.

Every wall was lined with shelves and hanging rails. Dozens of dresses, blouses, skirts, and dainty jackets in silks, satins, lace, and velvet were arranged by color and season. A full rack of lingerie—bodysuits, teddies, babydolls—hung like museum pieces. Shoes in every style and heel height lined up beneath them in pairs.

But it was the chest of drawers along the far wall that made her stop in her tracks.

Five soft close drawers, matte pink with rose gold handles.

Mia walked over and opened the top one.

“Drawer one,” she said. “Wolford. Mostly Neon 40s, Fatal 15s, some Luxe 9s.”

Tammy’s jaw dropped.

Mia opened the second. “Drawer two. Cervin and Gio. Real vintage seams. Fully fashioned.”

She opened the third—Falke, Oroblu, Fogal.

The fourth—hold-ups and lace-top stockings.

The fifth—miscellaneous: ankle socks, opaque tights, patterned sheers.

“They’re all labeled by brand and denier,” Mia said proudly. “And there’s a divider for suspender clips. I got… carried away.”

Tammy turned slowly, her hand pressed to her mouth.

Sally stepped in behind her and whispered, “This is your world now. Your wardrobe. Your life.”

Tammy looked at Mia. “You did this for me?”

Mia smiled. “We all did.”

And for a moment, Tammy simply stood in the middle of her new sanctuary, overwhelmed, moved, and perfectly at home.

The Guest Who Watched Too Closely

The countryside evening was still, the air tinged with fresh lilac and warm earth. Inside the house, candles glowed low and golden. The scent of polished wood, leather, and expensive perfume drifted lazily through the hallway.

Mia arrived just past seven, heels clicking against the stone path. She wore a fitted black cocktail dress with a deep neckline, sheer sleeves, and glossy patterned tights that shimmered in the porch light. Her hair was curled in loose waves, lips painted a daring wine red.

Sally opened the door with a sly smile. “Well don’t you look sinful.”

Mia stepped in with a smirk. “You said dress up. I understood the assignment.”

Sally kissed her cheek and led her inside. “He’s in the lounge. Tammy’s in place.”

“In place?” Mia raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll see.”

The lounge had been carefully arranged. Wine glasses stood ready. A low chaise had been pulled toward the hearth. Phil reclined on it already, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, one arm draped along the back. He rose briefly to greet Mia.

And there,kneeling between them on the plush rug was Tammy.

She wore a sheer black maid’s dress, delicate white apron tied in a perfect bow at her back. Her hair, freshly styled from the salon, framed her cheeks like golden silk. She was already plugged, her Sissy anklet glinting at the edge of her Wolford hold-ups.

Mia blinked, trying not to look too long.

But she did.

Tammy’s eyes met hers. She smiled.

Mia sat down slowly beside Sally, her own legs crossed, patterned tights brushing against the edge of her skirt. “So… what’s tonight’s plan?”

Sally leaned in, voice smooth. “Tammy serves. Phil enjoys. I direct. You observe.”

Tammy poured the wine, delicate hands, perfect poise. She offered Mia her glass with a respectful nod.

Mia’s fingers brushed hers. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Tammy flushed.

The night unfolded in slow, deliberate layers.

Sally slid onto Phil’s lap and kissed him deeply, moaning just enough to make Mia’s breath catch. Tammy knelt nearby, watching like a well trained pet. She fetched toys. She wiped sweat from Sally’s chest. She kissed the anklet on her Mistress’s ankle between acts.

And Mia watched all of it.

Watched the way Tammy’s eyes lit up when Sally praised her.

Watched the way her thighs pressed together beneath her maid’s dress each time Phil groaned.

Watched the way she looked at Sally like she was the only sun in her sky.

Something in Mia stirred.

Possessive. Protective. Maybe even a little… envious.

Later, as the play slowed and wine refilled, Sally glanced toward her guest. “You’ve been very quiet, Mia.”

Mia smiled lazily. “Just… watching.”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“I think,” Mia said, setting her glass down and meeting Tammy’s gaze, “I enjoyed her the most.”

Tammy blinked, surprised.

Sally smirked. “Oh?”

Mia leaned forward. “She’s good. Gentle. Devoted. I think… if she were mine, I might keep her all to myself.”

Tammy’s breath caught.

Sally raised an eyebrow. “Careful,” she said with a grin. “She’s loyal. But curious.”

Mia reached out and ran one finger along Tammy’s stockinged thigh. “I’d be gentle.”

Tammy didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But her lips parted slightly, and her eyes didn’t leave Mia’s.

Close Enough to Touch

The lights in the lounge had dimmed further, leaving only the glow of the fire and the occasional flicker of candlelight across silk and nylon. The scent of perfume, sex, and wine lingered on every cushion, every breath.

Sally reclined against Phil’s chest on the chaise, her slip askew, one stockinged leg resting lazily across his thigh. Her Hotwife anklet gleamed at her ankle, a smear of slick still glistening across the back of her stocking.

Mia hadn’t moved far from her seat, but her posture had shifted. She was angled slightly toward Tammy now, her legs crossed just enough to let her patterned tights brush against the edge of her heel. One arm draped along the back of the loveseat, casual. But her eyes? Focused.

Tammy knelt obediently at Sally’s feet.

Her hair had begun to curl softly at the ends with the heat of the room. Her maid’s dress was rumpled, apron strings slightly loose. Her face was flushed, her lips parted slightly as she looked up at her Mistress, awaiting her next task.

Sally smiled lazily. “It’s time, sweetheart.”

Tammy nodded and moved toward her, leaning in, gentle and deliberate.

She began at Sally’s thigh, tracing the seam of her stocking with her tongue. Slow. Devout. Reverent. She followed the line of warmth and fluid with practiced ease, cleaning with long, soft licks, pausing only when Sally let out a satisfied sigh.

Mia watched, transfixed.

When Tammy reached the anklet, she kissed it.

Then licked it clean, too.

Sally’s eyes half-closed. “She does love her work, doesn’t she?”

Mia didn’t answer at first.

Her gaze dropped to Tammy’s mouth, to her gloved hands resting on Sally’s thighs, to the way her knees pressed into the rug as though she belonged there permanently.

“I’ve never seen someone so… willing,” Mia finally said. Her voice was low. Almost breathless.

“She lives to serve,” Sally replied.

Tammy moved next to Phil, bowing slightly, and performed the same ritual, cleaning him gently, tongue working slowly, thoroughly.

When she finished, she returned to kneel before Sally, waiting.

Mia shifted closer.

Without speaking, she let one hand rest on Tammy’s thigh, just above the welt of her stocking.

Tammy inhaled sharply.

Mia’s thumb traced the nylon, then followed the garter strap upward with featherlight pressure.

“Does she get… anything for that?” Mia asked softly. “A reward?Sally smiled. “Only what I allow.”

Mia leaned in slightly, her lips just near Tammy’s ear.

“I’d have kissed you by now,” she whispered. “If you were mine.”

Tammy didn’t breathe.

Sally tilted her head. “Would you like that, Sissy?”

Tammy nodded, trembling.

Mia’s lips brushed her cheek. “I’d taste you carefully. Make you beg.”

Sally let her fingers trail through Tammy’s hair, stroking her possessively. “You can watch her sleep in her stockings tonight,” she said to Mia. “But she stays with me.”

Mia smirked. “For now.”

And Tammy, blushing, aching, overwhelmed, stayed right where she was.

Exactly where she belonged.

Pillow Talk and Possession

The house had softened into stillness, every room bathed in a warm hush.

The play had ended. Wine glasses stood half-full. The scent of polished wood, rose perfume, and something unmistakably intimate lingered in the air.

Mia sat perched on the edge of the velvet settee, legs crossed in her patterned tights, the sheer shimmer dancing up her thighs. Her black cocktail dress clung beautifully as she sipped the last of her wine.Tammy knelt beside Sally, face flushed, lips glistening from her recent cleanup duties. She remained perfectly still, her maid uniform slightly askew, Sally’s worn stockings clinging to her thighs. Her pink cage peeked subtly beneath the hem.

Sally reclined against Phil, utterly at ease in her satin robe, her legs lazily crossed. Her Hotwife anklet shimmered faintly.

“Mia,” she said, almost casually, “why don’t you stay tonight?”

Mia blinked. “Really?”

Tammy’s head lifted slightly, curious.

Sally gave her a slow, teasing smile. “You’ve already seen her at her most devoted. Now spend some time with her. Get to know her. She’s lovely in the quiet moments… and quite talented.”

She looked pointedly at Tammy. “Although she’ll remain locked.”

Tammy’s cheeks burned.

Mia grinned, biting her lower lip. “Locked, but available?”

“Oh yes,” Sally said. “She may not be able to take… everything you give her, but she’s very good with her tongue.”

Phil chuckled from behind her. “Generous girl.”

Sally leaned over and kissed Tammy’s forehead. “Get her settled, then come back, Sissy. Phil and I aren’t quite finished yet.”

Tammy nodded and rose quietly, smoothing her skirt.

Mia stood and stretched, her tights catching the firelight.

They walked together to Tammy’s room.

Tammy’s Room

It was warm and softly lit, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. Mia stepped inside first, already familiar with every inch. After all, she had designed it, the vanity placement, the canopy bed, the drawers arranged with obsessive precision.

She turned as Tammy entered behind her.

“Still perfect,” Mia said, slipping out of her dress with practiced ease, leaving her in just her shimmering hold-ups and a lace bralette.

Tammy swallowed. “You look…”

“I know,” Mia teased, walking toward the bed. “I planned this room down to the drawer handles. I wasn’t about to let it go to waste.”

Tammy began to undress carefully, slipping out of her maid uniform and bodysuit, folding it neatly. She was left in her satin nightgown and Sally’s used stockings, still warm, still scented.

Mia turned to face her. “That’s what you wore during cleanup, isn’t it?”

Tammy nodded.

Before anything more could be said, a soft call echoed down the hallway.

“Sissy!”

Tammy turned immediately.

“I’ll be back,” she whispered.

Mia smiled and slipped beneath the satin covers.

“I’ll be here.”

The Master Bedroom

Tammy knelt at the edge of the bed, obedient as always.

Sally, now bare except for her glossy hold-ups and a sheer chemise, was stretched across the bed. Phil lay beside her, equally relaxed.

Tammy cleaned them both, soft, practiced licks across Sally’s inner thigh, up the seam of her stocking, then lower. Her tongue flicked gently, collecting every trace left behind.

Sally murmured praise.

Phil simply sighed, his fingers lazily stroking Tammy’s cheek when she finished him too.

When she was done, Sally smiled. “Back to Mia, now. Be gentle with her.”

Tammy nodded and rose, slipping silently from the room.

Back in Her Room

Mia was lying beneath the lavender satin sheets, propped on one elbow, watching the door.

When Tammy entered, Mia’s smile widened.

“You were longer than I expected,” she said softly.

Tammy said nothing at first. She simply crossed to the bed and climbed in.

Mia sat up, her hand finding Tammy’s cheek.

She kissed her.

And instantly, she tasted it.

Phil.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes glittering. “Still warm.”

Tammy gasped, caught off guard.

Mia kissed her again, deeper. Then whispered, “Don’t you dare clean your mouth yet.”

Their legs tangled as they slid down together, stocking against stocking, the soft rasp of nylon teasing and electric.

Mia’s hand slid up Tammy’s thigh. “These are hers too?”

Tammy nodded, breathless. “She made me wear them to bed.”

“I love that.”

The first kiss was exploratory.

The second, possessive.

And the third, just before Mia guided Tammy’s head between her thighs, was full of promise.

Hours Later

They lay in the aftermath, silk sheets askew, both still in their hold-ups. Tammy’s cage pulsed, untouched but aching.

Mia’s thighs were flushed, her breaths soft and sated.

“Three,” she whispered.

Tammy kissed her again.

Mia stroked her hair. “You’re dangerous in the best way.”

“I just want to please,” Tammy whispered.

“You do,” Mia replied. “And you will.”

They drifted into sleep, their legs still entwined, the scent of stockings and satisfaction wrapped around them like a second skin.

Silk, Suds, and Stockinged Steps

The soft hum of morning filtered in through Tammy’s open window, curtains gently swaying in the countryside breeze. The warmth of the rising sun caught on the edges of satin sheets still tangled at the foot of the bed, wrapping Mia and Tammy in a lazy, golden glow.

Mia stirred first, her hand sliding slowly up Tammy’s thigh, smiling as her palm met the now familiar shimmer of nylon.

Still wearing the stockings.

Still tangled in the memory of the night before.

“Still locked?” Mia whispered, brushing her fingers gently over the pink cage beneath Tammy’s nightie.

Tammy nodded, eyes half-lidded.

“Good,” Mia murmured, kissing her once before slipping out of bed. “Let’s shower.”

The En Suite Shower

The water was already warm when Tammy stepped in behind Mia. Steam curled up around them, softening the edges of the room. Mia’s hair was damp, loose curls sticking to her neck and collarbone. Tammy stood behind her, soapy hands sliding down Mia’s sides, over her stomach, her hips, the swell of her thighs.

Mia let out a soft sigh as Tammy knelt in the basin, hands resting gently on her waist.

It was slow. Wet. Gentle.

And when Mia came, leaning back against the tiled wall, she held onto Tammy’s hair and whispered her name like a secret.

After, they washed each other in silence, soft touches, shared glances, fingers tracing the shape of each other’s backs and shoulders. When they stepped out, towels wrapped tightly around them, they were both smiling.

Makeup & Dressing Together

Back in Tammy’s room, they stood before the lighted vanity mirror, drying their hair side by side. Mia looked radiant, cheeks still flushed, lips bare.

“I can’t believe I didn’t pack a change of clothes,” she said, brushing a hand through her curls.

Tammy smiled. “Borrow anything you like.”

Mia raised an eyebrow at the wardrobe. “I’ll need guidance. This is a boutique.”

They opened the drawers together. Silk blouses. Short satin skirts. Lace bodysuits. Shelf bras. Tammy reached for a pair of perfectly folded Wolford Neon 40s.

“These,” she said. “You liked them on me. At the club.”

Mia grinned. “You remember.”

Tammy helped her slide them on carefully rolling them up her freshly shaved legs, smoothing them with reverence. Mia watched in the mirror, eyes wide with pleasure.

“I get it now,” Mia murmured, flexing her leg as the nylon shimmered. “This is power.”

“You looked at our legs all night,” Tammy said softly. “I saw.”

Mia glanced over. “And now I’m in them.”

They chose each other’s outfits. Tammy picked a floral satin skirt and white blouse for Mia, the tights underneath gleaming with every movement. Mia selected a black fitted pencil skirt for Tammy, paired with a blush-pink satin cami and sheer back-seam stockings held up with proper garters.

They both added gloss, soft blush, and matching perfume.

By the time they floated into the kitchen, it was hard to tell who had the bigger grin.

Breakfast with a Twist

They moved easily together in the kitchen, Tammy whisking eggs, Mia buttering toast, both girls barefoot but still in stockings, skirts swishing with every step.

Phil stepped in first, shirt unbuttoned, hair damp from a quick rinse.

He paused, surveying the scene with amusement.

“Well, don’t you two look like trouble.”

Tammy smiled. “Breakfast?”

“Just toast, thanks.” He grabbed a slice, kissed Mia’s cheek, and then Tammy’s.

“I need to head off, early call. But…” He looked them both up and down. “You’ve both outdone yourselves.”

He slipped out the door moments later with a travel cup of coffee in hand.

Sally entered just as the kettle finished boiling.

She wore a silk robe over pale champagne hold-ups, her Hotwife anklet flashing as she moved barefoot across the kitchen.

“Well, well…” she drawled. “What a sight. You two look like a lingerie catalogue.”

Mia laughed. “Tammy’s fault. She dressed me.”

Sally poured herself tea. “Remind me to thank her later. I love it.”

She took a sip, then looked them both over with a pleased grin. “After breakfast, you can help me pick something out. I want to look as good as you two.”

Mia leaned in. “Plans?”

Sally nodded. “There’s a little brasserie in the village. Outdoor terrace. We’re going for lunch.”

Tammy smiled. “Just the girls?”

“Of course,” Sally said, setting down her cup. “And I expect nothing less than full glamour.”

They all laughed.

And as the morning sun streamed in, glinting off stockings and glossed lips, three women prepared to step into town looking exactly as powerful, and as bonded, as they felt.

Just the Girls

The engine purred quietly as Sally guided the car up the gravel drive, golden sunlight streaking across the windscreen. In the back seat, Mia and Tammy sat side by side, laughing softly, legs pressed together under their skirts, tights glinting in the shifting light.

Sally glanced at them in the rearview mirror with a knowing smile.

“I have a few errands to run in town,” she said, putting the car in park outside the house. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

Tammy leaned forward slightly. “Should we come with you?”

Sally turned, her eyes sparkling. “No, no. I think you two should… get to know each other better. Bond. Explore.”

She winked, fingers tapping the steering wheel. “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Then she laughed, kissed her fingertips, and stepped out of the car.

Mia turned to Tammy as the door closed behind them, one eyebrow arched.

“I think we’ve just been dismissed with intent.”

Tammy smiled shyly. “Come on. I’ll make us tea.”

Back Inside

The house was warm and quiet, the midday sun slanting through the tall windows. Tammy moved gracefully through the kitchen, her skirt swaying softly over her hips, back-seamed stockings whispering with every step.

Mia watched from the doorway, eyes drifting lazily over her. “It’s still strange to be in this house and know exactly where everything is.”

Tammy placed the kettle on and turned, leaning against the counter. “You built half of it.”

“I did,” Mia murmured. “But I didn’t know I’d be using it like this.”

Tammy poured their tea into delicate china cups and set them on a silver tray.

“Shall we?” she asked.

The Sitting Room

They settled on the velvet settee by the front window. The curtains were half-drawn, the room softly lit. Mia kicked off her heels and tucked one leg beneath her, smoothing her floral skirt over her lap. Her Wolford Neons shimmered like liquid gold.

Tammy knelt on the carpet beside her, setting down the tray.

Mia watched her closely. “You know,” she said, lifting her cup, “I don’t think I’ve ever worn tights like these and been so… aware of them.”

Tammy smiled. “That’s the point.”

She reached for a drawer in the nearby side table and retrieved something small, sleek, curved, with a subtle metallic finish.

Mia’s eyes widened. “You keep toys in the sitting room?”

Tammy tilted her head. “Mistress does. I just obey.”

She moved closer, one hand resting on Mia’s knee.

“May I?”

Mia’s answer was a slow, deliberate nod.

Tammy clicked the small device to life. It vibrated softly in her hand, no louder than a whisper. She slipped her hand beneath Mia’s skirt, just at the knee, letting the shape of the massager rest gently against the inside of her thigh, over her tights.

Mia inhaled sharply, her hand tightening on the edge of the cushion.

Tammy didn’t press, just let it hum there, barely moving, the nylon between them amplifying every subtle shift.

“It’s… warm,” Mia murmured. “And slippery.”

Tammy leaned in, lips near her ear. “It’s the stockings.”

Mia turned her face just enough to brush their noses. “No. It’s you.”

Tammy adjusted the angle, just a breath closer. Mia gasped softly, her cheeks flushed.

They moved like that for several minutes, Tammy focused, Mia slowly unraveling, hips shifting slightly against the buzzing rhythm.

When Mia finally arched with a quiet cry, her fingers clenching around Tammy’s arm, Tammy turned off the toy and held her close, the scent of perfume and warmed nylon wrapping around them both.

Afterward

They curled on the couch together, skirts still askew, legs tangled in shimmering fabric.

Mia kissed Tammy’s forehead.

“You’re dangerous in the loveliest way.”

Tammy laughed quietly, her fingers tracing down Mia’s leg.

“I just know what Mistress would want.”

Mia kissed her again, this time slow, deep, lingering.

“I think I’m starting to understand it too.”

Permission and Invitation

The late afternoon sun had softened, casting honey-gold shadows across the hallway when the front door clicked open. Sally stepped inside with a breeze of cool air and the quiet scent of fresh lilies from the florist down the lane.

“Ladies?” she called, heels echoing softly against the stone floor.

Mia and Tammy were still curled together in the sitting room, legs intertwined, skirts rumpled, the sheen of their tights catching the fading light like liquid metal. Tammy sat up a little too quickly, cheeks flushed, as Mia smoothed her skirt and sat straighter on the couch.

Sally appeared in the doorway and paused, taking in the scene.

Her smirk said everything.

“Well, it looks like you didn’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” She set down her keys and purse. “You’ve just done it better.”

Mia stood and stretched. “We were… getting to know each other.”

“I can see that.” Sally stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over Tammy’s caged form still visible beneath the thin fabric of her blouse. “And Sissy seems to be suffering beautifully.”

Tammy blushed, the little pink cage clearly swollen inside her panties.

Sally moved closer, reaching gently under the hem to stroke along the hardened plastic.

“So full,” she whispered. “You poor thing.”

Tammy trembled. “Mistress…”

Sally looked over at Mia. “Would you like to see her… properly?”

Mia’s eyes met hers, calm and focused. “I’d like to… taste her.”

Sally smiled slowly. “Well then.”

She reached into her pocket and produced the delicate silver key, unlocking the cage with the practiced ease of someone who had done it hundreds of times, but never casually. The moment was still ceremonial, deliberate.

The pink cage opened, and Tammy’s cock sprang free, flushed and pulsing.

Mia knelt before her, smoothing Tammy’s skirt up around her hips. Her hands moved with grace and care, gently stroking along Tammy’s thighs, fingertips tracing the seam of her stockings.

“You really are beautiful like this,” Mia murmured.

Then, slowly, she leaned in, her lips wrapping around Tammy with the tenderness of someone savoring, not taking.

Her hands never stopped moving, stroking along nylon-clad legs, palms warm and steady.

Tammy whimpered, hips twitching slightly, breath catching.

“Mistress… I… I think I’m going to cum.”

Sally stepped closer, one hand stroking Tammy’s hair. “Do you want permission, my sweet girl?”

“Yes,” Tammy gasped. “Please.”

Sally leaned in and whispered, “You may.”

Tammy cried out softly, hips jerking, as she spilled into Mia’s mouth, who didn’t flinch, only held her steady, fingers tightening gently on her thighs as she swallowed with quiet reverence.

Afterward, Sally helped Tammy to sit, and Mia crawled up beside her, lips still slick.

Sally leaned in and kissed Mia, soft and slow.

Then she turned to Tammy and kissed her too.

The shared taste between them was electric.

They lingered there in silence, the three of them close, breathing together.

Then Sally smiled. “Mia…”

Mia looked up.

“Would you like to stay again tonight?”

There was a pause.

“In my room.”

Tammy blinked, her heart skipping.

Mia’s voice was quiet, but certain. “I’d love to.”