I turn Hester around and lift her — legs wrapped around my waist, my hands under her tight ass, her arms around my neck — and carry her to the bedroom. She clings to me, moaning into my shoulder, her tits pressed flat against my chest. Her jeans are still pooled on the kitchen floor.
Hope follows, licking Hester's juice from her lips. Katie slides off the table and brings up the rear, still naked, her skin flushed and damp.
I lay Hester on the bed and climb over her. She looks up at me with those eyes — worshipful, adoring, confused and grateful all at once. My pet. My good little squirrel. The girl who came to me as a bully, head high and defiant, before I broke her and remolded her into what she is now — a needy, obedient, slutty pet. And now she's trembling beneath me, waiting for my next move.
