The air thickens, heavy with the unspoken weight of my words.
[POV: Sarah]
The word 'tribute' lands like a physical blow, igniting a humiliating, exhilarating heat. Pride screams against the transactional nature, but the image of Pidgeotto broken on the arena floor crushes it. He sees me as a tool to be used, and that knowledge feels like a potent, intoxicating offer of power.
Sarah drops her head, then lifts it immediately, fierce and unwavering. She takes another half-step closer, then drops to her knees on the plush carpet.
"Then take your tribute," she says, her voice clear. "Take it from me first. Use my beauty however you need to see my commitment."
[POV: Ellie]
My chest tightens. 'Beauty.' 'Tribute.' The words echo, stirring a confused, thrilling sense of vulnerable exposure. The humiliation of the arena crashes over me, overriding the innate caution my brother always fostered. This is it. This is the price. I must follow Sarah's lead.
Ellie's knees buckle, and she sinks slowly to the carpet beside Sarah. "And from me," she whispers. "I will prove my commitment. Tell me how you want your tribute."
[POV: Sarah]
My heart is a frantic bird. 'Tribute.' The word is a brand. Pride is a luxury for the strong, and today, I was shown exactly how weak I am. If this is the price for Pidgeotto—I'll pay it. I'll be the beauty he enjoys if it means I become the weapon he trains.
Sarah begins to shuffle forward on her knees. Her fingers tremble as she releases her grip on her Pokéball, letting it roll unheeded onto the floor.
[POV: Ellie]
I'm shaking. It's not just the fear anymore—it's this terrifying, heavy heat in my stomach. He looks at us like we're already his. And God, I want to be. I won't be the one left in the shadows.
Ellie mirrors the movement, her gaze fixed on my lap. She shuffles closer until she is positioned directly between my spread legs, her head bowed in a silent, pleading surrender.
"Prove it then," I rumble.
Sarah reaches for the fastening of my belt. Her knuckles graze the dark gray fabric of my briefs as she fumbles with the leather. Beside her, Ellie leans in, her smaller, trembling hands joining the effort.
The leather of my belt gives way with a soft creak. My trousers fall open, leaving me in the tight, contoured charcoal of my briefs.
[POV: Ellie]
I can't breathe. The smell of him is everywhere—leather, sweat, and that heavy, musky heat. Watching Sarah... seeing her eyes go glassy... it makes my stomach do backflips. He's looking at me now.
Sarah hooks her thumbs into the elastic waistband and peels the fabric down. My cock springs free, heavy and pulsing. Ellie flinches back slightly at the sheer scale of me, but she doesn't retreat. Instead, she leans closer, her hands reaching up to cup my thighs.
Sarah reaches out, her palm sliding along the length to catch the moisture at the tip. "Master," she whispers, the word a humid caress, before she closes her eyes and slides her tongue in a long, wet stripe from base to tip.
I reach down, tangling my fingers deep into Sarah's high ponytail. I exert a slow, irresistible pressure, guiding her forward.
"Deeper," I rumble. "Prove your commitment now."
[POV: Sarah]
The yanking at my hair sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My throat hitches, the gag reflex fighting the desperate need to swallow every inch of him. I want to be his. If this is the weight of his guidance, I'll choke on it until I'm strong enough to stand beside him.