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5 - Jason
Jess was splayed outin the jacuzzi tub, eyes closed, her limbs relaxed as they floated in the water. My arm hung over the edge of the tub, resting against the wall as I sat on the floor opposite Manson. He was positioned mirroring me, leaning on the side of the tub with one hand trailing in the water, the two of us watching over our girl as she drifted back down to earth.
Our girl. Ours. It sounded so right, itfeltso right. Whether or not it was true didn’t matter, at least not for now.
Despite what came after all this, Jessica was ours for the weekend, and I intended to savor that.
She opened her eyes, smiling sleepily as she looked around. The bathroom was spacious, connected to the cabin’s primary bedroom. A large frosted window over the jacuzzi tub let in natural light, and there was a walk-in shower big enough for all five of us to fit inside with a little crowding.
Like nearly everything else the Peters family owned, their cabin was luxurious. There were four bedrooms, but we only planned on using the primary one with its massive bed. At home, we had our separate spaces, but whenever we were all away, we usually slept together. It was comforting, easing unspoken anxieties and silent fears. Like surrounding ourselves with the feeling of home.
Because really, our home wasn’t a house. It was each other.
Jess inhaled deeply. “Do I smell food cooking?”
“Lucas and Vincent are on the grill,” Manson said. “Are you hungry?”
“God, yes.” She gave a satisfied groan and stretched, sitting up in the tub. She looked even more beautiful after what she’d just endured. Her eyes were tired and her expression was soft, as if she’d just awoken from a long nap.
As I traced my fingers across her shoulders, goosebumps prickled over her skin, and I smiled.
“How do you feel?” I said. She’d drawn up her knees and rested her cheek on them as she looked at me.
“Amazing,” she said. “Like I don’t have a care in the world.”
“Good, because for the next two days, you don’t have to care about a single thing except being a good girl for us,” Manson said.
The water sloshed as Jess inched closer to the edge of the tub, trying to get as close to us as possible without getting out.
“I can do that,” she said. “Especially if you keep fucking me like that.” She bit her lip. “I’m going to get turned on again if I think about it. You killed my pussy and then raised it from the dead.”
“Mm, zombie pussy,” I said, and she snorted with laughter.
Manson got up, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and holding it open for her. She held on to my offered hand as she stepped out of the tub and Manson wrapped the towel around her, taking his time to dry her off. She could have done it herself, but we didn’t want her to have to.
She’d endured flogging, fucking, and being tied up in a trunk. Now she deserved to feel like the princess she was.
