Part Two - "Our World Now"

January 2 ^nd, 2021

Uncharacteristically, and for the second day in a row, Andy Rook had gotten up early, but this time, he hadn't gotten up alone. He'd gotten up early yesterday as perhaps the only person who hadn't been completely shitfaced the night before, on New Year's Eve, even though he'd been keeping up in number of drinks with many of his partners.

The theory was that because of his incredibly high metabolism that brought his appetite up, it also meant his system was processing out alcohol much faster, so if he really wanted to get drunk, he was going to have to go full bore, like he was all the members of the Rolling Stones combined.

A night's heavy drinking wasn't even a drop in the bucket for New Andy.

He felt a little like a superhero.

This morning, however, Fiona had gotten up with him, and the two of them had quietly extracted themselves from the flesh pile in the Master Bedroom and slipped downstairs, heading to the basement central living room, where Fi immediately turned on the television.

The station didn't really matter - literally everyone was covering the same story.

Judge Andrea Weishhaupt had decided to begin the trial of Brian Morrison on a Sunday, hoping it would discourage media interest in the matter, but as it turned out, news networks, desperate for things to cover in the brave new world, were already calling it the Trial of the Century, and every single one of them was blasting wall-to-wall coverage, despite not being allowed inside of the courtroom by California law.

Brian Morrison was the man accused of killing Veronica DeLaCruz, the first woman to die from improper Quaranteam serum usage.

Veronica had originally been the card dealer at the infamous poker game where Andy had won several people away from Arthur Covington the 4^th. But according to the story Andy had told Fi earlier, he'd been skeptical that having a dealer who was in the service of one person would be fair, and so they'd just all taken turns dealing, ensuring that nobody could cheat for more than a few hands, if that at all.

Morrison had claimed he was forced under duress to ejaculate down Veronica's throat, even though she was imprinted on Covington. The subsequent trauma killed her within minutes, although it was suspected to have been a painful and prolonged death with a usually cruel amount of suffering. That meant the prosecutor was asking for the death penalty, a matter complicated endlessly by the fact that Morrison already had a Team of a dozen women. The Sergei Swerve was, perhaps, an option, but it was still considered a touch unready for primetime.

"Do you think I should be covering this, Andy?" Fiona asked him, leaning her head against his shoulder, his arm around hers.

"I think if you had to sit in that courtroom for weeks on end, you'd probably go crazy, Fi," he told her. "This is going to get ugly; it's going to get graphic and it's going to get strange."

"How strange?"

"What are they charging him with, for starters? Are they charging him with Murder? 1^st degree? 3^rd degree? Manslaughter? What if he tries claiming he didn't have reason to believe his semen would actually hurt her? Or if he's sticking to his story that Covington forced him to do it, how can he establish that? Is his semen considered a deadly weapon? Hell, are all men considered to be carrying a deadly weapon at all times from now on, even though it's not exactly easy to use to threaten people with it?"

Fiona started furiously giggling, taking a moment to compose herself before leaping to her feet, placing both of her hands in front of her crotch, miming holding an overly large, comedically sized cock. "Everybody be cool, this is a robbery! But nobody move! This thing is loaded, and it could go off at the drop of a hat!"

"Everyone, take cover! He's going to blow!" Andy added, laughing with her. "But you know that's going to come up in the damn trial! Every man is theoretically now always in possession of a weapon, if they can get it up and off easily enough."

"I have a very hard time imagining you using yours as an actual weapon, dear," Fi said with a smirk. "If you think anyone's having a bad time, your erection shrivels up like grapes with suntans, and getting you off becomes twice as difficult."

"This whole trial is going to be full of that kind of insanity," Andy said. "Because whole sections of what they're talking about are being kept under wraps for 'military security,' so there's going to be loads of things that won't be discussed in open court. The jury will be sworn to secrecy for parts of it, as will anyone reporting on it, which is going to make covering it an utter nightmare."

"Shit, they can't talk at all about the poker game in open court, can they?"

"They've marked a lot of it off under 'military secrets,' simply because they don't want to have to get into all the early mistakes with Quaranteam serum distribution that were made during the chaos of the early days, but I suspect the jurors are still going to hear something about it," Andy sighed. "If they don't, then it'll be simplified down to 'there was an expectation that Veronica was supposed to do something, but for whatever reason, she couldn't, and despite her having no control of the situation, Covington blamed her for the matter and had Morrison kill her because of it.'"

"I've never really understood why Covington would single out Morrison for blame," Fiona asked him.

"I can't say for certain," Andy said, "because I'm not a psychopathic nutjob, but Melody's told me she believes it's because Brian Morrison was the player who fell ill. You know, the one whose absence resulted in my invitation to the poker game."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yep," Andy chuckled, shrugging a little. "Morrison apparently came down with the honest-to-God flu a few days before, but at that point, the thought that he could be a DuoHalo carrier scared Covington off having him over, and then they found themselves in need of a replacement player. Covington knew he was somewhat protected from DuoHalo because of his partners, but he certainly didn't want to test that protection if he didn't have to."

"Well, since we know that Niko was positioning to get you that slot, and Emily was positioning to get you the win, I have to ask, who was responsible for Morrison coming down with the flu?"

"Just dumb luck," Andy said. "Which is pretty scary when you think about how much of our lives are chalked up to that one single turn."

"C'mon, Andy, you sure? No 'Secret Left Hand Of Phil' on the steering wheel? No 'Niko Spilled A Flu Sample On Somebody?'" Fiona asked with a grin on her face. "Because you have to admit, a lot of your recent life has gone down the paths that it did because someone was looking out for you, and you simply didn't know about it beforehand."

Andy chuckled and nodded. "Oh, I get that, Fi, believe me, I do. But no, apparently one of Morrison's newer partners had brought in a flu that was resistant to the Quaranteam serum when she came in, and Morrison came down with it and didn't feel well enough to play cards. Everyone else certainly didn't want to be around a guy with a virus that the Quaranteam serum couldn't easily handle, so they told him to stay home and found someone else... me. Now that part we know Niko had a hand in. She dropped hints that I was a decent poker player in front of Rachel, and Rachel told Covington that she had found a replacement for Morrison."

"Oh shit!" Fi said, sitting up suddenly, turning to look at Andy. "Are they going to want Melody to testify?"

"She's already gotten a summons, so she'll be spending a couple of days in court. For that matter, so will I. I'm in for a day on the 27^th or 28^th, depending on how it goes, but no later than the 29^th, considering the wedding, and Melody's scheduled for the 14^th or the 15^th, so before me."

"You know what this family needs?" Fiona said.

"Absolutely nothing, and thanks for asking?" Andy suggested.

"We need an in-house lawyer. You've got a trainer, a doctor, bodyguards, an accountant, a chef, a gardener, an IT technician, two of your bodyguards have their pilots licenses, but still you don't have a damn lawyer. Why don't we have a damn lawyer?"

"Nobody had one they wanted to recommend, and I didn't think of it?"

"Well, I'm putting it forth that we need to get a lawyer added to the family, just if we're trying to cover all the bases," Fiona said quietly. "Besides, don't you want to have that experience of saying someone you should have your lawyer explain it to you, and you countering with, 'So-and-so happens to be my lawyer...' like in 'The Thomas Crown Affair.'"

"Fi, you know I love you to death, but you're not going to look as good as Rene Russo in that dre--"

"You take that back, Andy!" she giggled, hitting him with a pillow. "I could rock the fuck out of that dress!"

"Then we can get you a version of it and you can wear it to the wedding rehearsal dinner."

"That's not the kind of dress you wear to a wedding rehearsal, Andy."

"Well, I don't know that we get invited to the kind of parties where you'd wear such a dress, Fi..."

"I used to," Fiona sighed. "At one point in my life. But I suspect a lot of people who would've invited me to those kinds of parties now are dead. Damn, I miss those parties."

"You know what I miss?" Andy said with a slight laugh. "Unlocking doors. Driving cars. Carrying keys. Having coins in that little pocket of my jeans. As weird as it sounds, I miss the sort of normal boring day-to-day shit I used to do."

"You still carry keys, Andy."

"Well, technically, although I've never unlocked the front door to this house," he said, shaking his head. "Hell, most of what's on my keychain is authenticator keyfobs - one for secure communications with the Oversight Committee, one for secure communications with the White House, one for secure communications with Whitney here in the house... I'm half convinced that my agent and publisher are going to get one for me to use to send them the next Gunslinger book, at this rate."

"You've got a lot of information rattling around in that head that needs to be protected, dear," Fiona said, as the television showed an image of Morrison being walked into the courthouse in Oakland. "How long do they think this trial's going to run?"

"March or April? They know our plans, so if they need to move when they're calling us to testify, they'll avoid the time we're out on our honeymoon, and definitely not call on any of us the day of the wedding," Andy chuckled. "Hell, I'm damn near wondering if they're going to declare our wedding day a local holiday around here."

Fi cocked her head with a curious look. "Why's that?"

"Because I think we're funding the entire east bay for a month," he said, stretching his arms up over his head. "A lot of the local hotels are crowded with just our guests, not to mention all the plane storage places that apparently Em and Sarah's friends are filling up at the local private airports. Some of them are even considering flying commercial, although I'm told others are just going to carpool in a plane... is that jetpooling? It's so not our world."

"It's our world now, Andy," she laughed. "You own a jet now, remember? You're probably going to end up letting people ride with you places now and then who aren't family."

"I imagine Lexi would throw a fit about that."

"Only if it's people she didn't vet first. Otherwise, she'd probably say it's a smart use of money."

"Hey Master?" Nicolette said, peeking her head in, with Whitney poking her head right behind her. "Would this be a good time for you to take care of Whitney? I figured we could bring her up to speed on Mistress Fiona's expanded roles, and Mistress Fi could get her interview in while you were demonstrating some more, ahem, advanced restraining techniques."

"This something that interests you, Whitney?" Andy asked her, seeing that she was dressed in black stockings, black panties, a black bra, her collar and nothing else.

"Very much so, Master," Whitney purred. "Your slut loves being on display for you, and if you are extending control of your slut to Mistress Fiona, that excites her just as much."

"Go grab your tape recorder, Fi."

"No need," Fi said. "I've got my phone with me, so I can just set up an audio recording."

Nicolette scurried into the room, bringing a bag with her that Andy had described to Fiona as 'her toy kit.' There were all sorts of things inside of it, ranging from restraints to blindfolds to nipple clamps to butt plugs, along with a wide range of dildos and vibrators and assorted other sex toys, at least a few of which Andy had admitted to Fi he didn't have the slightest idea what they were for and didn't have the heart to ask Nicolette about them. He was sure he'd be instructed in their use at some point.

"Handcuffs," he told Nicolette, like a doctor asking for a scalpel. Nicolette reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of fur-lined handcuffs. Andy immediately grabbed one of Whitney's wrists and slapped a cuff on it before lifting both of her arms in the air with a sudden shift that surprised Fiona at how quick and effortless he made the motion look.

There was a portion of the downstairs central living room that had a series of strong coat/hat hooks jutting from it, and Andy had quickly learned that they were strong enough to suspend a person from. But he clearly also wanted to be kind to her, so he pulled a footstool over and made her stand on it before he looped the top of the handcuffs over the hook, then handcuffed her other wrist, making her stand on top of the footstool with her arms raised over her head. "Not too high?"

"No, Master. Thank you, Master."

"Nipple clamps."

"Yes Master," Nicolette said, reaching into the bag, pulling out a pair of small steel clamps, holding them out to him. After she handed them to him, she unhooked Whitney's bra, sliding it down and forward, exposing the pale woman's deep pink nipples and areola. Fiona could hear a delighted tone to the gasp Whitney made as Andy clamped one nipple, then the second, a small steel chain connecting the two.

"It took me a while to get used to the idea that Whitney liked this sort of thing," Andy said to Fiona, "but once I did, and once I knew how to tell where her limits were, it's become sort of a fun game, trying to see how much I can use push and pull dynamics, turning the pain up then back down again, intermittent with blasts of pleasure, to give Whitney the sort of experience she enjoys and expects from me."

"That true, Whitney?" Fiona asked.

Whitney moaned and then nodded. "Indeed, Mistress. This girl has been surprised at how quick a study Master has been, and how adept he is at recognizing subtle, sometimes almost imperceptible signals that this girl doesn't even know she's sending. He's remarkably observant."

"None of us have ever accused Master of being slow on the uptake, Mistress, but he's been very good to us in catering to our personal tastes and never judging us on them," Nicolette added as she batted at the chain connecting Whitney's nipples idly. "Even when we don't voice those tastes as obviously as he would like."

Andy reached over and gave the chain a little tug, which made Whitney's knees turn inward a bit, another sultry moan escaping from her lips. "Now we're going to play a little game, Whitney, and you're going to tell Fiona your backstory, at least the start of it, anyway, so she can sort of chronicle how we all got here."

"Y-y-yes Master, how should this girl start?"

"The same place everyone begins, Whitney - begin at the beginning, and when you get to the end... stop." He chuckled, shooting Fiona a wink, as Whitney began to recollect her childhood.

* * * * *

I was born in Northbrook, Illinois, just outside of Chicago, on August 23^rd, 1997. If you're familiar with Northbrook, it's because it's the cinematic stand-in for Shermer, the fictional town that all the John Hughes movies are set in. My locker at Glenbrook North High School was only a few lockers down from where Judd Nelson hid his pot in 'The Breakfast Club.'

My parents were a pair of normal Midwesterners. My father worked in advertising for a cigarette company, and died when I was nine from lung cancer, so the universe clearly has a dark sense of humor about these things. My mom, Carol, didn't want to uproot me and my older sister, Alice, so she joined the work force, opting to attend night school as she studied computer science. Mom wanted the best for Alice and me, and so she's constantly doing what she can to further our education.

Alice ended up getting into MIT just before I started high school, and so she ended up moving halfway across the country, leaving me to navigate high school on my own. Alice and I hadn't grown up all that close, so her absence didn't affect me as much as you might have expected.

I was a bit of a wallflower in high school. I did very well academically, and I had a decent number of friends, but I didn't date, just because Alice had accidentally gotten pregnant in her junior year of high school and had chosen to have an abortion. Our Mom supported her on that but told me that she expected better of me. Perhaps that made me a bit more paranoid than I should've been, but it's possible I was just focused on schooling instead and missed subtle signals from boys who were trying to flirt with me.

My mother and I spent much of my senior year talking about what I should do with my future, and she suggested I go west instead of east, so there was no possibility of me being trapped in Alice's shadows. I had a handful of scholarship offers, and I decided to move out to San Francisco. The scholarship I got from San Francisco State University was to help find more and more informational technicians for the growing tech industry.

I... no Master, that's f-f-fine, I just didn't know the vibrator was coming. As I was saying, I was told there was a shortage of systems administrators and support technicians, as companies had been running lean on them for some time, and I was told there would be plenty of jobs available.

I like technology. To me, it's easy, it's respectful. There are rules. It always follows those rules, and it does what it's told reliably and consistently, unlike people who don't always respond to the same thing the same way.

I suppose my first year in California, I mostly stayed too head down. I didn't really get involved with making new friends or even learning about the area beyond spending far too much time in Golden Gate Park or at the beach.

It was tranquil and I was able to make massive headway into my studies, but I also settled into a place of great loneliness. My introverted nature had begun to turn against me. But one night, I was hungry and decided to go into the city to get a late-night snack at somewhere I'd never been before, a late-night sandwich shop called Bite. On the way back, I saw several people entering a building dressed in skintight leather and latex, and I couldn't help but wonder what they were up to.

One of the things I had learned from one of my few friends on campus was that pretending to need a cigarette was a good way to strike up a conversation with anyone in the Bay Area. Even if they didn't have one, it would be an icebreaker, and you would already be talking to them. I parked my car on the empty street, walked over and hung outside, trying to get a peek inside of the building, when finally, a pair of women dressed in clothing that was more straps and buckles than fabric stopped and took pity on me.

What was going on inside was a bondage party, and if I wanted to see inside, they didn't mind being tour guides for me for a bit. They wouldn't get me in on my own, but if I wanted to go with them, they promised to keep me safe. I still don't know how I got as lucky as I did, because I could've easily been taken advantage of at that point, shy little naïve girl sniffing around a bondage party. But the two women, Zelda and Mia, brought me inside of the building and let me follow them around, all the while protecting me from any sort of bad influence, of which the leather scene has plenty.

At the party, I was introduced to the concept of dominance and submission, and it was like a light switch flicked inside of my head, opening a part of me that had always been there, simply laying dormant until it was finally activated.

The idea of someone deciding everything for me? I liked that idea very much. Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But during set small periods of time? That felt like a release I couldn't get enough of. I wanted to be able to switch my brain off and simply do what I was told for a while. A few hours at a time would be plenty. I was a firm hand in my professional life. Being the opposite held great appeal.

It's... Master, forgive this girl's impertinence, but either get me off with that vibrator or p-p-please let me finish my story for Mistress Fiona before you continue... thank you, Master. Your slut does not wish to seem ungrateful, but it was becoming difficult to speak.

Zelda and Mia have become good friends to me. They helped me navigate my initial experiences into that world, giving me safe tastes of what it would be like, allowing me to dip my toe in, and figure out what aspects of it I wanted to lean into and which aspects I wanted to lean away from. Through them I learned that I enjoyed submission, that I enjoyed pain - to a certain extent - and having my nerves tingling.

They would've made horrible pairings for you, Master, otherwise I would have recommended them to you after my arrival. Mia's too much like Nicolette, and Zelda, well, you and Zelda have very different outlooks on the world, and, frankly, I don't think she'd respect your worldview the way you'd want.

* * * * *

"What the hell does that mean?" Andy asked the bound girl, holding the heavy-duty Hitachi vibrator in his hand at the ready, as Ash entered the room, the redhead arching an eyebrow with a grin as she looked at the proceedings.

"I seem to have walked into the middle of something," Ash giggled.

"Sorry Ash, yeah, a bit busy at the moment."

"It okay if I sit and watch?" Aisling asked them.

"It's fine," Nicolette said, looking over at Fiona with a slight smirk. "For the others, privacy will be more important, but Whitney's used to an audience. Many times she even gets off on it."

"No no," Andy said, waggling a finger in Whitney's direction. "You don't get out of the question because someone else showed up. What did you mean when you said she wouldn't respect my worldview?"

Whitney smiled up at him with adoration in her eyes. "Despite your attempts at snarky cynicism, Master, you still fundamentally believe that all people are capable of good things, and that's why your entire house, all of us, love you the way that we do. You're convinced no one is beyond redemption and people can always choose to change their ways." She looked away from him for a moment and over at Fiona. "Zelda is not like that. She believes that everyone has an evil side to them, and that side's dominance is always only one or two bad decisions away. She is inherently paranoid, often to her own detriment, and she is part of a very small House now, with a group of people she trusts explicitly, including Mia, who was one of her first submissives."

"You have to admit, Andy," Fiona said to him, her hand on the back of his shoulder. "You do go out of your way to see the best in people. Xander told me all about Bad Mike and how long it took you to cut him out of your life, long past when everyone else had given up on him."

"Who's Bad Mike?" Ash asked Andy, tilting her head to one side. "And should I be worried about him crashing our wedding?"

Andy rolled his eyes, as he pressed the Hitachi firmly against Whitney's clit until she began to orgasm, trying her best to remain as quiet as possible, but the intense feelings kept causing ecstatic blasts to pummel her body, until Andy felt like he'd pushed her into a hard enough orgasm that she whimpered in a tone he apparently recognized as a request for a breather. He pulled the vibrator away and switched it off, setting it aside. "If Bad Mike sets foot near our wedding, I'll grab a two-by-four and beat his ass senseless myself," Andy grumbled, which made both Fi and Ash jump back a little bit. "I didn't even send him a goddamn invite."

"Whoa! Easy there, Terminator," Ash laughed. "Just tell me about this guy first, and I'm sure I'll hate him as much as you do, but it's only fair if I get to know who the hell he is first."

Andy sighed, rolling his eyes a little bit, shaking his head. "When I first moved out here, I didn't have a whole lot of friends either, so I ended up playing a bunch of World of Warcraft. I ended up getting into a guild with this guy Mike, who lives out in Modesto. His day job was stocking vending machines for the region, but Mike never let that define him. Mike is something of a maker - he liked to do leather and steelworking, liked to LARP, knew exact schematics of Star Trek ships down to serials numbers... if I was a level six or seven geek, Mike was easily like an eight or a nine, maybe even a ten. That wasn't the problem, though."

"I can't imagine how it would be," Ash said. "You've always been welcoming to everyone, whatever their particular obsessions happen to be. You don't even give Phil shit for his weird Japanese wrestling obsession. So, what was the problem?"

"The problem was that Mike, and his wife Theresa, did not want to do anything for anybody else. Ever. Oh, they loved to see people, loved to have people come to parties they'd host, but going to other people's places to see them? They wouldn't be caught dead doing that. And Modesto's a good couple hours' drive each way, and they wanted everyone else to do the driving, because they just didn't have the time to do those drives. No, you see, Mike's wife always complained that nobody understood how hard their life was. She said that all of Mike's friends were taking advantage of him by only doing the drive half of the time, and that we should just be thankful that we saw them when we did."

"Wait, you were driving a couple of hours to see them several times a year, and they couldn't even be bothered to return the favor like one time for every three or four?" Ash asked incredulously. Fiona was also getting angry on Andy's behalf, but she'd heard all this earlier.

"Nope. They were just too busy, they'd say. It was condescending, but I knew Mike before he started dating Theresa, and back then, he was a better guy, less self-centered. But once Theresa showed up, well, it was 'everybody should come to us because we're busy and our lives are hard and we don't like going anywhere' and basically, all the people who were friends with Mike started slowly drifting away, in WoW, in the LARP scene and among the friend group out here who just knew him as Big Mike. And I'd always tell people, sooner or later Big Mike'll come around. Sooner or later, he'll realize that his wife can't let him stay trapped in their home forever. I was optimistic and felt like sooner or later Mike would notice how much of his own life he was missing out on. But, as it turns out, instead Big Mike just drifted away from everyone and everything that wasn't his insanely controlling wife."

"So, when did Big Mike turn to Bad Mike?" Ash asked him as Nicolette removed the nipple clamps from Whitney's nipples at Andy's direction.

"That would've been about two years ago," Andy said with a sigh. "I'd just released 'The Dragon's Last Offer,' and Eric wanted to throw a party on my behalf for the release. He invited everyone to come out for it, and Matty flew out, Xander flew out, all the local friends came out for it..."

"Let me guess," Ash sighed. "Except Big Mike."

"Yep. He and Theresa said two months wasn't enough time for them to get a babysitter for their six-year-old son, and--"

"Wait wait wait wait WAIT," Fiona said, growing cross on Andy's behalf now. "I didn't hear this part. They had two months and couldn't find a goddamn babysitter? What the hell is wrong with these people?"

"Turns out, a whole hell of a lot, really," Andy chuckled, having had enough time for the sting to wear off. "They didn't even really apologize. In fact, Theresa suggested that Eric have the party at a hotel out in Modesto instead, so they would be able to attend."

"You're fucking kidding me," Ash said.

"Could I invent this kind of shit, Ash?" Andy laughed, rolling his eyes again. "They told Eric he should move a party being thrown in my honor because the location wasn't convenient for them to attend. Eric refused, and at the party, not knowing any of this, I asked how come Big Mike wasn't there."

"Oh no."

"Yeah, you know Eric," Andy said with a smile, clearly still confident that he'd made the right decision back then. "At that point, he just let the dam break and told me everything that had happened, and at that point, Big Mike became Bad Mike."

"You heard from him since?"

"Just once, about three months later. He sent me a chat via messenger, telling me that he'd decided to go to therapy and that he was reaching out to everyone he hadn't heard from in a while," Andy said. "I told him the reason he hadn't heard from me was that I was done catering to him and his wife's stupid demands. It was their turn. I wasn't going to do all the work in the friendship, and that if they wanted to start making amends, they knew where I lived."

"Except you don't live there anymore, baby," Ash teased.

"No, but my cellphone number hasn't changed, and any time he wants to call me and show me that he's learned his lesson, he can..."

"And yet, you haven't heard from him?" Fiona asked. "Still?"

Andy shook his head with a little shrug, and Fiona found herself admiring how Andy had clearly moved on from this, rather than letting himself wallow in it. "Not during the pandemic, not after the '60 Minutes' story... nothing."

Fiona and Ash both sighed with him, sliding their arms around his shoulders, forming a group hug. "I'm sorry, love," Ash said quietly to him. "You deserve better."

"Speaking of deserving better," Andy said, turning his attention back to Whitney. "Shall we see about getting you dosed properly?"

"Oh Master," Whitney said shyly, her legs still a little unsteady from the orgasms he'd inflicted upon her just a few minutes ago. "If you simply want this girl to suck you off to get that, she will understand."

Andy grinned from ear to ear, shaking his head. "Just because you're exhausted, Whitney, doesn't mean you should be let down with anything less than my best. Ash, Fi, each of you grab one of her legs, while you grab her hands, Nicolette. I don't want her to move an inch while I'm railing her, so don't you slip..."

Nicolette's face turned to match Andy's as she nodded as Whitney groaned, a touch excitedly, a touch exhaustedly, before the two submissives moved into place, so Andy could make sure Whitney did not go to bed unspent.

She did not.