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Alex
Barely a week after our encounter,Alfred messages me on Fetwrk with his mobile number and a request to ring him.
I should ignore him. Maybe even block him completely, but curiosity overrides any good judgement I might still possess, and I call.
“Hello, Petal,”
“Why did you want me to phone you?” I ask.
“I’d like to see you again.”
I suppose I knew this would be why, but to hear him say it in that dark voice makes me want to drop to my knees and obey his every command.
“When? Where? How?” Way to show your desperation, Xandra. Well bloody done.
“Can you do Friday afternoon until Saturday morning?”
My pussy clenches in anticipation. “Absolutely.”
“Excellent.
“Be at the Esmonde London at four o’clock on Friday wearing my plug. I will text you the room number.”
The Esmonde. Only one of the most exclusive boutique hotels in the city.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ll see you soon, Petal.”
A whole week. That feels too long. But we both have complications to accommodate.
It takes forever, but Friday finally comes around.
I thought long and hard about whether to pack an overnight bag, but in the end, it’s easier to be stealthy when carrying the smallest possible handbag capable of holding a fresh pair of knickers and a hairbrush.
What I hadn’t really anticipated was the terrifying thrill of being in public while wearing a butt plug. Walking down the road, looking absolutely normal, nobody any the wiser about my fashion accessory.
What if something happened, and I required medical attention? I can imagine the tabloids paying out enough to make it worth it for leaking that kind of information. And if they included photos? But part of the thrill is fear of getting caught.
6
Alex
It’s beentwo days since my tryst with Freddy at the Esmonde, and my body is still feeling every deliciously dastardly thing he did to me.
I’m feeling pretty good…until I check my phone. It’s blown up with notifications, most of which are texts from Rachel, Freddy, and my brother.
I don’t even need to click the link to have a good idea what to expect. The URL pretty much sums it up. But I click anyway.
From Good Girl to Dirty Stop-out
Princess Alexandra’s Walk of Shame
I’m horrified to see the headline is followed by time-stamped photos of me both entering and leaving the Esmonde London Hotel. Photos that are undeniably me.
The article is full of speculation and innuendo, but thankfully there is nothing in it identifying Freddy.
I should have been more careful.
