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Vi drops her rucksack at her feet and kicks off her shoes, banishing them to parts unknown until the morning. She glances around the hotel room, finding what she expects from a mid-range chain: generic prints of flowers on the wall, a bed so well-made she’s not sure she can wrestle the duvet from the trappings of the mattress, everything perfectly presented and utterly identical to every other hotel she’s ever stayed in.

 

She heads straight for the bathroom, making the most of the tiny, complimentary toiletries, and by the time she’s towelled her hair off enough to stop it dripping down her back, pulled on a pair of boxers and a tank-top, it’s already half-eight.

 

Vi’s not sure when she got so old, but fuck if getting into that giant bed with its crisp bedsheets doesn’t sound like the perfect way to spend her evening. She’s done her time. She’s proven herself a decent big sister, but she can’t spend another night sleeping on Powder’s dorm room floor.

 

She is – to her surprise – a functional adult with a job that doesn’t completely suck. The hotel’s only half a mile from Powder’s dorms, and Vi’s sure Powder appreciates having her space back. They spent most of their childhoods crammed into the same box of a room, and neither of them need to relive that.

 

Caitlyn was right. Getting a hotel for a few days is practical, not a waste of money that’s going to bankrupt her.

 

Unlocking her phone, Vi fires off a text. Heyyy. You around Cupcake? She bites the inside of her mouth, fighting off an absurd smile at the sight of a reply coming almost instantaneously.

 

I certainly am. Call me?

 

Vi puts her earphones in, hits the call button, and hardly has to wait a second for Caitlyn to pick up.

 

“Hello, love,” comes her voice in Vi’s ears, and Vi melts into the pillows a little. “I take it this means you got yourself a hotel room, then.”

 

“You were right.” Vi’s already grinning. It’s ridiculous. It’s only been three days since she last heard Caitlyn’s voice, and they’ve been texting back and forth the entire time. “I know Pow wanted to give me the real uni experience, but you know me. Not the academic type.”

 

“Mm. Which explains why you were out until three am on Tuesday morning, at a venue called The Slippery Eel. Delightful.”

 

“Hey, it was great if you wanted to see a bunch of kids paying three times too much for shitty beer and doing shots like someone had a gun to their heads,” Vi says, laughing. “Makes me feel old, Cupcake. Sure, I had other stuff going on in my late teens, early twenties, but at least in prison I didn’t have to worry about waking up with a hangover.”

 

Caitlyn laughs a little, saying, “Well, thank goodness you were incarcerated, rather than forced to attend dormitory parties.”

 

Vi shuffles onto her side, eyes closed. It’s the perfect way to end the day: clean from a long, hot shower, wrapped in crisp bedsheets and Caitlyn’s gentle voice.

 

Comfortable silence pools between them. Vi hears a light clack clack clack on the other end of the line.

 

“Cait?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“Are you working? It’s almost nine,” Vi says, half-scolding. “We talked about this. No more bringing work home—you’ve gotta let someone else pick up the slack, or you’re gonna be up until midnight every night.”

 

“I haven’t brought work home. It’s—it’s overtime,” Caitlyn says, and Vi can picture her sitting a little straighter, lips pursed together.

 

“Yeah, overtime you volunteered for. C’mon. Can’t slip back into old habits just because I’m not around to keep an eye on you,” Vi says.

 

“What else am I to do? You’re not here, and there’s a huge backlog of contracts that need to be drafted up.”

 

Vi wants to keep a serious tone, wants to lecture Caitlyn on the importance of not working herself to death, but she can’t help but cling to three words: you’re not here. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring it up, but it’s the longest they’ve been apart since they got together.

 

“Missing me that much, huh?”

 

There’s a pause on Caitlyn’s end. The tempo of typing continues.

 

“Would you be surprised if I was?”

 

Her voice is a little clipped, a little playful.

 

“Nah. Just wanted to hear you say it,” Vi says, and she swears she’s never been this sappy in a relationship before, but it’s Caitlyn fucking Kiramman. What choice does she have?

 

They talk for an easy hour, Caitlyn occasionally pausing to hum over her work, and Vi entertains her with stories about Powder’s new life on campus, from having the whole building evacuated at two in the morning, after tinkering with a new project and upsetting the overly sensitive fire alarms, to the bubbly blonde flatmate who insists on making Powder breakfast every morning.

 

Vi closes her eyes. It’d be easy to drift off. It’s been a long few days, and the travelling alone has her exhausted. Caitlyn convinced her to catch a flight, rather than a coach, two busses, and then a train; it might’ve saved her time, but fuck if it wasn’t one of the least comfortable experiences of her life. As excited as she was – and is – to spend time with Powder, it’s the first time she’s relaxed in days.

 

Leaving home hasn’t made Powder any less high-energy.

 

As she listens to Caitlyn catch her up on her latest phone call with her parents, Vi figures it must’ve been four days since she last saw her. She counts backwards on her fingers. Wednesday. It was Wednesday, five days ago, because—

 

Vi’s eyes open. No, it was Thursday, because Caitlyn had turned up to her place with less than ten minutes notice, told her to strip down to her boxers, and—

 

Vi clears her throat.

 

“Is everything alright?” Caitlyn interrupts herself to say.

 

“Yeah—sorry. Just readjusting. Getting comfy,” Vi says, and shuffles against the pillow to try selling it.

 

“Let me know if you need to sleep, love. I can’t imagine your sister having a day at the spa organised for tomorrow,” Caitlyn says.

 

Vi settles back under the covers, floating on that one word. Love. Caitlyn says it so easily, so softly, but Vi knows there’s a weight behind it, a promise in that single syllable.

 

“Nah, I’m good. You can hang up if I fall asleep,” Vi remembers to say. “Unless you want to get back to your work. I know you like to focus.”

 

“Mm. I can make an exception, for now.”

 

Caitlyn continues the tale about her father’s weekend fishing trip.

 

Vi tries to focus, she truly does, but Caitlyn had called her love on Thursday, too, running her fingers so softly through Vi’s hair as the hardwood flooring pressed to her knees.

 

It takes her a moment to realise Caitlyn’s no longer talking. The rapid tap of keys tells Vi the call hasn’t dropped.

 

“Sorry. Drifted off for a second, Cupcake,” Vi blurts out, feeling a cold trickle of dread run down her spine.

 

Caitlyn’s been known to read her mind before.

 

She continues typing. Vi strains to listen, as though she can pick out the individual keys.

 

 “You fell asleep?” Caitlyn says.

 

“Yes?” Vi answers without any confidence.

 

“Hm.”

 

Vi waits for Caitlyn to make her point.

 

She never does.

 

“Whatcha hming about, Cupcake?”

 

“I was hoping you hadn’t phoned me with the sole intention of distracting me, but I’ve been known to overestimate you in the past.”

 

Ouch. Vi can’t tell if Caitlyn’s teasing her, or if she really means it.

 

She isn’t sure which she’d rather.

 

“I mean, you’re working. Any phone call is gonna be a distraction, right? You’re the one who chose to pick up, so.” Vi shrugs as though Caitlyn can see the gesture. “That’s on you.”

 

More typing. Caitlyn takes the bait.

 

“Not like I’d need to make a call for that. I’ve got my hands. I’m good,” Vi says, pushing the grin into her voice. “You’re the one who needs a whole drawer of fancy toys.”

 

“Toys that baffled you when we first met, but now you sulk over being not big enough.”

 

Caitlyn enunciates the last three words slowly, as though through grit teeth. Vi bites her tongue. She wasn’t expecting a reply from Caitlyn, yet she didn’t miss a beat.

 

Vi’s well-thought out, coherent retort is, “… Whatever.”

 

Caitlyn sighs into the receiver. The sound rushes into Vi’s headphones and she swears she can almost feel her breath on her.

 

Vi plasters a hand over her stomach, tank-top hiked up. The muscles pull taut, half-deceived into thinking it’s someone else’s warm palm.  

 

“I’m glad you brought up the topic, actually,” Caitlyn says. Vi hears the soft click of a laptop closing. “There was something I wanted to discuss with you.”

 

Vi bites the inside of her cheek. This is either going to be very, very good, or very, very bad, and she can’t tell which prospect excites her more.

 

“There was?” Vi asks in what she hopes is a level voice.

 

“Indeed. I looked in the aforementioned drawer this morning and found a particular item missing.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Vi asks, face splitting into a grin. “Why were you looking in there? Because if you’re about to tell me you were just taking inventory of your sex toys, then—”

 

“Be quiet, Vi. Can’t you behave for a single moment and take things seriously?” Caitlyn talks over her. Vi’s mouth snaps shut. “One of my possessions is missing. The blue one. The one you like most of all, the one—”

 

“That matches your eyes. Yeah,” Vi breathes out.

 

“With ridges,” Caitlyn concludes.

 

Vi swallows the lump in her throat. The aircon’s running diligently in the far corner of the room, but sweat clings to her forehead, her ribs. Caitlyn’s tone is so severe, so presumptuous, that it takes Vi a solid five seconds of fumbling to realise this isn’t her fault.

 

“You, uh. You left it at my apartment.”

 

It comes out more question than statement. Vi can’t stand what Caitlyn does to her head with a few simple words; she can’t get enough of it, either.

 

“Ah. Yes. Because you can’t seem to keep it out of your mouth,” Caitlyn chides. “And I was in a rush the next morning. I suppose it’s still in your apartment then, isn’t it?”

 

“Yep,” Vi says.

 

“Where?”

 

“What?”

 

“Whereabouts in your apartment is it, Vi?”

 

Her apartment. Right. The place she lives. The place with rooms, with a kitchen, bathroom, a bedroom, and—

 

“By the bed,” Vi says. “Next to my alarm clock.”

 

Caitlyn hums. God, she’s so close to the microphone Vi feels it reverberate through her chest. Caitlyn takes her time mulling over the answer, and Vi twists in the bed, kicking the covers off.

 

“Then if I were to visit your apartment, use my key, and venture into your bedroom, I’d find it by the bed, would I?” Caitlyn asks.

 

Vi presses her fingertips to her hip. Caitlyn knows the answer, Caitlyn knows Vi knows it, but she’ll leave her in the awful state of suspense indefinitely if Vi doesn’t tell her what she wants to hear.

 

“… No,” Vi admits, screwing her eyes shut.

 

Caitlyn sighs. Her disappointment makes Vi’s toes curl.

 

“That’s what I thought. Why can’t you be honest with me, Vi?” Caitlyn demands. “Why can you not tell the truth the first time? Imagine my surprise when I opened my drawer, doing you the favour of thinking of you, and found that my favourite toy was missing. Well. My second favourite toy.”

 

“Look, if—”

 

Caitlyn snaps her fingers. She actually snaps her fucking fingers and Vi falls silent. She doesn’t know who this woman thinks she is, doesn’t understand how Caitlyn Kiramman gets her brain to stop firing with a few scattered insulations and a scowl in her voice. Vi slides a leg along the mattress, trying to centre herself.

 

As if knowing she’s struggling, Caitlyn waits to continue speaking.

 

“Why did you do it? Why do you always insist on being such a bad girl, Violet?”

 

Vi’s answer is something along the lines of hah—?

 

“Well?” Caitlyn continues. “Don’t tell me you don’t have the decency to explain yourself.”

 

Vi grits her teeth, determined to get herself back on equal footing.

 

“I mean. The toy, the strap, it’s kinda—it’s kinda mine, too, right? A shared custody kinda deal?” Vi says, hating how she sounds a little breathless.

 

“No, Violet. It’s mine, and you may only have it when I say so.”

 

Vi presses both hands to her face. This is getting dangerous. Her heartbeat’s sunk between her legs, and Caitlyn sounds fucking furious.

 

“Really. I’m disappointed. I thought I’d trained you better than that,” Caitlyn says, clicking her tongue. “You won’t be gone for more than five days, yet you couldn’t last that long, could you? Perhaps it’s my fault, love. Perhaps I shouldn’t have expected so much of you. We can work on that, once you’re back, but for now—”

 

“Okay. Okay, I’ll tell you,” Vi bites out.

 

Through her headphones, she hears fabric rustle. She closes her eyes and imagines Caitlyn setting her laptop aside, getting comfortable atop her pile of pillows, where she can look down at Vi and tug at her hair.

 

“I’m waiting,” Caitlyn tells her. “Be a good girl, darling, and tell me why you needed the toy that badly on such a short trip.”

 

Vi’s eyes are still screwed shut. Her treacherous hands hover somewhere around her hips. She can do this. She has a perfectly logical, sensible explanation, and she really did think the toy as much hers as Caitlyn’s.

 

“Well, love?” Caitlyn murmurs down the phone.

 

“It’s because—okay. Don’t know if you realise this, but it’s the longest we’ve not been together since, uh. Since we first—” Vi swallows the lump in her throat. Knowing Caitlyn’s listening makes every word burn on the tip of her tongue. “Since we first hooked up. And in the past, my hands would be fine. I know how to get myself off. But I don’t want to get myself off, I want it to be you, or I wanna pretend it is—and my fingers don’t feel like yours. It would be frustrating and not much else.

 

“But the toy, that feels the same inside me, whether you’re wearing it or I’m holding it.”

 

Vi drapes a forearm over her eyes. Caitlyn takes her sweet time piecing a reply together.

 

“Oh, darling. That’s almost sweet. Maybe I underestimated how good you can be. How thoughtful. There’s only one problem,” Caitlyn says, and Vi bites on her lower-lip to hold a moan back. There’s a problem. She wants there to be a problem. “It won’t feel the same, no matter how talented your hands are. Nobody knows how to fuck you like I do, Violet.”

 

Biting her lip doesn’t help. Vi moans at that, hips bucking, and says, “Yeah, yeah—you’re right. But I wanted to pretend so bad.”

 

“Of course you did,” Caitlyn hums. “Get it.”

 

“Get it?”

 

“Get the toy. Don’t make me tell you again,” Caitlyn says, voice low.

 

Vi almost trips over the bedsheets tangled around her feet. She darts across the room on unsteady legs, head spinning, and unzips her rucksack. She doesn’t bother rummaging through it. She empties the bag on the floor and grabs the sky-blue toy.

 

Her finger and thumb don’t quiet touch when she wraps them around it. It’s one of the more recent toys Caitlyn has introduced her to, worked her up to, and Vi’s face burns just to look at it.

 

“Got it,” she breathes, dropping back onto the bed.

 

“Good. Take a picture,” Caitlyn demands. “Between your legs.”

 

“Damn. Not gonna say please?”

 

“No. It isn’t a request. Take the photo, Violet.”

 

“Fuck,” Vi mumbles, patting the bed for her phone.

 

Her hands move of their own accord, as if on strings; as if caught under Caitlyn’s spell, hers alone to command. She grips the toy and presses the base between her legs, like she’s wearing it, like it’s hers. It takes three attempts to get a decent photo with her hands shaking, but the moment she sends it, she hears Caitlyn hum in appreciation.

 

The sound sends sparks down her spine. She keeps the strap where it is, steadily applying pressure, lifting her hips against its base, taking what little friction she can get.

 

“What about you? Gonna send me a pic?” Vi asks, panting. “That’s fair, right?”

 

“I don’t owe you anything. And stop trying to get yourself off against the hilt of the toy. It’s unbecoming.”

 

Nothing reminds Vi of Caitlyn’s complete and utter power over her so much as the way she drops the toy. Practically throws it away from herself in an effort to appease Caitlyn, even though it feels good. Caitlyn can’t see her. Caitlyn doesn’t know. Vi can be quiet, can take her pleasure with her teeth sunk into her arm, but it doesn’t matter.

 

She’d know. She’d know she was disobeying Caitlyn.

 

 “Much better,” Caitlyn says, and Vi can hear that damn smirk she wishes she could see looming over her. “Now. Get on your knees.”

 

“What the fuck?” hears herself splutter out as she presses her thighs together.

 

“Violet. Language,” Caitlyn chides.

 

Vi tries to come up with another retort, but all the air’s left her body. She can’t think, but more than that, Caitlyn doesn’t deserve a more coherent reply. There’s no way in hell she’s getting on her knees when Caitlyn isn’t there, in goddamn hotel room.

 

“What’s the matter, darling? Have you got yourself all worked up, only to lose your nerve at the last minute?” Caitlyn says, and lets Vi hear a drawer slide open. “I thought you were going to be good for me, love. I thought you were going to behave—you’ve made so much progress lately.”

 

Caitlyn’s words are warm. They spread over Vi’s skin like a blush, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give into this, to not have to think about herself, to follow Caitlyn’s every command, but—no, no. They’re not even in the same room.

 

Vi has to draw the line somewhere.

 

“I’m not—I’m not bad,” Vi sneers out.

 

“I know you aren’t, love. I know you only act out because you’re frustrated, because you need taking care of,” Caitlyn continues. “I know that all you want to do is be a good girl for me. Isn’t that right?”

 

Vi parts her lips, on the verge of gasping her answer out, but a familiar click of metal turns it to a whimper.

 

“Is that—?”

 

“Poor puppy. You left your collar and lead behind,” Caitlyn says, sighing fondly. “No wonder you aren’t on your best behaviour.”

 

Fuck. Fuck. Vi claws at her tank-top, tossing it across the room. Her hair sticks to her face, her breath comes heavily, and the damn air-conditioning isn’t doing a fucking thing about the heat building up in the room. Caitlyn continues toying with the collar of the D-ring, letting it clink against the setting, and Vi presses a hand to her throat, desperate to feel Caitlyn press the soft leather against her, to take her time making sure it’s tight, but not too tight to get what she needs out of Vi.

 

“Caitlyn, fuck. I’m sorry, I’ll—I’ll be good. I can kneel,” comes a voice that sounds suspiciously like her own.

 

“I admire your enthusiasm, darling, but that ship has already sailed,” Caitlyn says. “As much as I’d love to imagine you on your knees, ready for me to trail my fingers across that impressive physique of yours, I can’t afford to be too lenient with you. I won’t risk giving the impression that you can get what you want, whenever you want, after once refusing me.”

 

Vi bites the back of her hand. She can’t say something stupid, not at this critical point. She has to think, has to find a way to turn this in to her advantage. She’s been in this situation before. She’s fucked up more than once, and Caitlyn’s always been so stern but gentle with her, has always pushed her further than she could’ve imagined and left her begging for more.

 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Vi says. “I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it takes.”

 

Vi’s proud of herself. Her words are steady, and there’s real, raspy sincerity in them.

 

“Yes you will,” Caitlyn replies, clearly not as impressed. “For the person who initiated this all, you really are a pathetic mess right now, aren’t you? You’re begging me to use you for anything I wish, yet you haven’t even touched yourself yet. Have you?”

 

Vi considers sliding her hand beneath her boxers to prove her wrong, but there’s something in Caitlyn knowing her every move, in knowing she’s in control, that makes Vi’s stomach twist in a way that leaves her whining.

 

“No. I haven’t, not yet, not yet,” Vi breathes, needing to touch herself now, needing some relief, now that Caitlyn’s muttered those words. “I know you—you worked so hard to make sure I waited, and—even if you aren’t here, I still…”

 

“You’re still trying to be a good girl?”

 

Vi nods and nods and nods, turning her head, face pressing into the pillow, frustrated, desperate.

 

Caitlyn doesn’t need to see Vi to know her reaction.

 

“There you are. That’s better, darling,” Caitlyn says so, so softly. “I’ll give you one more chance. Get on your hands and knees.”

 

Vi swears Caitlyn hears her swallow on the other end of the phone. Her brain tries to frantically parse what Caitlyn’s saying, tries to figure out what she really said, but god, Vi wants to have heard her right.

 

“Get on—” Vi tries. She’s not being stubborn, but the damn words are. “Get on my hands and knees? Is that what—that’s what you want me to do?”

 

“That’s what I’m telling you to do, Violet. Get off the bed and get on your hands and knees,” Caitlyn says, voice low, dangerous. And loving, in spite of all that. Vi feels herself absolutely throb, boxers thoroughly ruined. “You can do that for me, can’t you, love? You can be a good pup and get on your hands and knees with the toy, can’t you?”

 

Her reply is a strained, “Yeah—Caitlyn, fuck, ma’am.”

 

With the toy in one hand and her phone in the other, Vi moves from the bed. Her movements are so easy, too easy to be her own, and she swears she falls to her knees before she can wonder what the hell Caitlyn’s done to turn her into this.

 

“Tell me, darling. Tell me what you’re doing,” Caitlyn says, and a soft buzz vibrates on the other end of the line.

 

Fuck, fuck.

 

“I’m on my hands and knees,” Vi says, fingers digging into the carpet. “My phone’s between my hands. Got the toy here, too, and I’m in my boxers. Just my boxers.”

 

“I bet your tattoos look beautiful, stark against your strong, scarred back. I expect you look perfect for me, Violet,” Caitlyn says, indulging her, indulging them both. Vi knows exactly how much Caitlyn loves her body, and she’s never once shied away from showing her appreciation, in word and deed. “It’s only a shame you don’t have your collar on. Not that it would make any difference if it was there, would it?”

 

Vi shakes her head. She imagines the D-ring swaying, the lead pulled along with the movement, until Caitlyn tugs hard, pulling her closer.

 

“No,” Vi says, swallowing thickly.

 

“And why might that be?”

 

“Because—because only you can put it on me.”

 

“Good girl,” Caitlyn says, gasping.

 

Vi’s arms almost give out. She almost presses her face into the carpet, teeth grit, trying to steady her own breathing so she can catch every subtle sound of Caitlyn fucking herself.

 

In a bid to be useful, Vi says, “Do you want me to take a photo? Prove I’m doing it?”

 

“Mm, darling, I think—” Caitlyn says, and Vi just knows her teeth are digging into her lower-lip. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I trust you.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Caitlyn hums curiously. Vi can taste her own disappointment on her tongue.

 

“Unless you wanted to take a photo for me, darling?”

 

Vi grabs her phone. She hadn’t known what she wanted, not until Caitlyn spelt it out for her, no matter how close she was to begging for it. Vi flicks to the camera, props the phone up with one hand, and does her best to capture her body, muscles pulled taut, throat on display; knees pressed to the ground, body bent over.

 

“There,” Vi breaths, dropping the phone, planting both hands against the floor.

 

The few seconds it takes for Caitlyn to receive the picture is the longest in Vi’s life. Her anticipation is rewarded by a soft, rising moan from Caitlyn, and Vi screws her eyes shut, imagining her arch her back as she drives the vibrator deeper insider herself.

 

“Good puppy. Good girl,” Caitlyn says, losing herself to her own pleasure.

 

If Vi truly were worth Caitlyn’s praise, she’d be good enough to accept the sound of Caitlyn fucking herself, the little gasps and wet noises that play in her ears, as her prize. She should be proud of herself. Grateful that Caitlyn even looks twice at her, much less gets that worked up over the thought of her.

 

“I was good,” Vi mumbles, pressing her forehead to the carpet. “I was good, so—I get something? Right?”

 

Chuckling, Caitlyn says, “You’re always so greedy, Violet. It’s a good thing I know how to make use of girls like you.”

 

God, she’s going pull up the carpet if Caitlyn doesn’t give her something soon.

 

“I have the toy,” Vi says. “You told me to bring it.”

 

“I did, darling,” and there’s pure ecstasy in Caitlyn’s voice, now. “I don’t need to ask if you’re going to behave for me, do I? I know you’re going to do exactly what I say, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes—anything,” Vi gasps.

 

Her fingers twitch, but she doesn’t reach for the toy. She rocks her knees, getting absolutely no relief without anything to grid against, but she won’t grab the toy until Caitlyn tells her to. Until Caitlyn lets her.

 

“I want you to—ah, I want you to pull your boxers down,” Caitlyn says, lost to the rhythm of her own lucky hands. “But only to your knees, darling. If I was there, I wouldn’t have the patience to get them off you. I’d tug them down, force your—fuck, fuck, fuck, force your legs apart, and get what I came for.”

 

Vi puts all her weight on one arm, tugging her boxers down. She’s glad Caitlyn’s given her such strict instructions; she doesn’t have the clarity of mind to move her legs to kick off the wet fabric.

 

“There. They’re down, they’re—what now?” Vi begs.

 

“Oh, my love. You brought that toy along with you for a reason, didn’t you? You knew I’d notice. You knew I’d ensure you knew it was mine,” Caitlyn says, trailing off to let out a breathless, ah, ah—. “I won’t waste any more time. I wouldn’t warm you up. I don’t need to warm you up, do I? You’re so good, Violet, you’re always so ready for me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” is all Vi can moan.

 

“Take the toy. Both hands, darling,” Caitlyn says, slowing her own pleasure to ensure the words drip down Vi’s spine and send sparks between her legs. “Make sure the angle’s right. Make sure you know it’s me rocking into you. I’m right there behind you, Violet, one hand on your hips, the other lining up my cock to give you exactly what I know you need.”

 

Caitlyn’s words are magic. Vi’s hands stop trembling enough to move. She grabs the toy, movements guided by Caitlyn’s voice, and takes it in two hands, just like she asked. She digs her shoulder into the floor, cheek pressed to the rough carpet, and lets out a low, guttural sound and she touches herself for the first time.

 

The first fucking time and she’s already this wet. She didn’t know she was into this, not before Caitlyn. She didn’t know she could be built up so much, to this, to the toy she’s sliding into her core, meeting a brief, wonderful burst of resistance. She didn’t know she was the kind of girl who got fucked into the floor on her hands and knees.

 

She didn’t know it could feel so good.

 

She didn’t know she could be so good.

 

“Cait—” Vi groans, strap in deep. She tries imagining Caitlyn’s hands gripping her hips, nails digging in, but it’s not the same, it’s not enough, she needs her voice, she needs to know she’s only doing what she’s been told to. “Should I—should I move?”

 

Caitlyn’s answer is nothing short of pure filth. She fucks herself, swallowing her own moans, treating herself with as much care as she does Vi. Vi’s hips jut, but without anyone wearing the strap, there’s no pressure to work against, no one to push back in retaliation.

 

Vi’s close to tears when Caitlyn finally says, “Do it, Violet. Fuck yourself, darling. I want to hear you fall apart. I want you to understand what a good girl you are.”

 

Vi doesn’t need to be told twice. She works the toy, trying to match Caitlyn’s usual, punishing rhythm, and fuck, it really is Caitlyn’s, it really does fill her up just as Caitlyn does. Shit, what Vi wouldn’t give for Caitlyn’s fingers in her hair, twisting, tugging, but it’s almost enough when Caitlyn says, “That’s it, love. Harder. I know you can do better, I know you can take more.”

 

“I can, I can,” Vi pants into the floor.

 

She doesn’t know how long Caitlyn has her fuck herself. Vi listens to Caitlyn come two, three times, praise on her lips every time – oh, Violet, you were so bad when you distracted me from work, but you’re so good now, darling, you just need a firm hand to guide you, don’t you, tell me – and Vi could keep doing this for as long as Caitlyn needs her, if only she keeps saying things like that.

 

But eventually, Caitlyn nears her limit. Vi’s thighs tremble, because now it’s her turn, now she gets to prove to Caitlyn how good she is, and it barely takes anything, not when Caitlyn says, “You’ve done so well, darling. I want you to come. I want you to come as I come inside you.”

 

Vi groans Caitlyn’s name. Her whole body begs to collapse on the floor, but she has to be good, has to stay on her knees, just like Caitlyn told her to. Distantly, she hears herself promising that she’s good, she’s good, she’ll do better next time, as the orgasm washes over her.

 

The world becomes a high-pitch ring. She’s dully aware of Caitlyn murmuring softly in her ear, telling her how well she’s done, how much she deserved it all, but it’s all noise and light and indistinct shapes to her. She bucks her hips, relishing in the last few waves of pleasure, and finds she’s been clawing at the carpet with one hand.

 

“Are you there, darling?” Caitlyn asks, equal parts amused and concerned.

 

Vi lets out the longest breath of her life, slumps forward, and rolls onto her back.

 

She absolutely needs another shower.

 

She doesn’t want to think about the carpet.

 

“I’m here. I’m here,” she says to herself as much as Caitlyn. “Shit. What the hell, Cupcake? How do you do that?”

 

Laughing, Caitlyn says, “Do what?”

 

“You’re not even in the same city as me. Forget the same room,” Vi says, laughing at the ceiling. “Holy shit. I need to take trips more often.”

 

“Well. Where’s the fun in it if I can’t have your arms around me afterwards?” Caitlyn asks.

 

It’s so earnest that Vi swears her heart skips a beat. She puts a hand on her chest, not wanting to deal with any more surprises from her body tonight.

 

“Just a couple more days,” Vi says. “A couple more days and I’ll be on a plane back to you.”

 

“Well. I think it of the highest priority that you return my belongings to me.”