5.02 – ❤ Intimate Viewing

Sofia stayed rooted to the spot. It wasn't a panic response; if there was any single requirement to their profession, it was the ability to act when confronted, not freeze. Yet, nonetheless, Sofia couldn't move.

Why? Obviously, she didn't need to be here. Whether she had needed to enter their room at all was a dubious duty she'd assigned herself. But now that she had delivered her message, she hadn't the smallest reason to stay.

So. That meant if she stood there and kept watching, then Jordan, and worse, Natalie, would make all sorts of assumptions. Not leaving implicitly announced that she wanted to be here, watching the two women go at it. Watching them—her childhood friends—rut like horny animals.

And why did that sight make her so dizzy? Natalie, red-faced and grunting, slamming into Jordan, their bodies sweaty with exertion, the air thick with the scent of sex. Jordan moaning with each thrust, pushing her hips back and grinding into Natalie, wiggling her ass and stirring Natalie's massive dick around inside her. And so shamelessly. Lost to the pleasure of it. Barely able to keep her attention on Sofia, despite Sofia knowing the instigating woman wanted to tease her.

Why did watching the two girls fuck make her heart pound like this? Make her dizzy, her breath come so fast, chest heaving up and down like she was running a marathon?

And why wasn't she walking away before Jordan could continue to taunt her, dragging her into this mess?

"A voyeur?" Natalie asked, finally responding to Jordan. It had taken her a second to process what the other woman had said—then look at Sofia in a new light, her lips curling as she, like Jordan, made all sorts of wildly incorrect assumptions.

"A giant pervert," Jordan agreed. "Who likes to barge in and watch her friends fuck. Who can't tear her eyes away from your big, fat cock plowing into my pussy." She emphasized the statement by thrusting her ass into Natalie's hips with a loud smack. "I mean, look at her. That look on her face. I bet she's already wet. How gross."

Natalie laughed, and the demeaning sound of it sent a thrill through Sofia. A thrill of indignation. Not … anything else.

"I guess I don't mind putting on a show," Natalie said. "But really, it's weird to barge in, then just stand there. Without without even asking."

"She's a pervert," Jordan agreed. "I guess we can't blame her. She's always been repressed."

"I—I came in here to tell you two that you'd be late," Sofia protested. "Trust me. I've learned my lesson on being polite."

The words felt limp, faint, and ridiculous, even to her own ears. The fact she was still glued to the spot, watching Natalie's movements become even more brutal as she hammered into Jordan, didn't do much to help her case.

Natalie's thrusts ... really had some power behind them. They left meaty claps as they hit Jordan, rippling her ass and thighs with each hard impact.

Natalie had learned how to use that thing in the short time she'd had it, hadn't she? And it was a menacing enough weapon in its own right. Jordan's fraying composure made sense. If Natalie ever plowed into her like that, Sofia doubted she'd keep her sanity intact for long, either.

Though, why was she thinking about that? Natalie using that gross thing on her? She couldn't imagine something she wanted less. Even the 'bet' was enough of an ordeal.

Natalie would be completely insufferable about sex. She would turn it into a competition—taunt, tease, and degrade her, making it clear who was the better. That Natalie knew what she was doing, and Sofia didn't. Like that event in the locker room. And when she extracted Sofia's climax, it would be in as embarrassing a way as possible.

Natalie would put her in her place. Pin her down and take her. No consideration. Just dominance.

Sofia watched, transfixed, as Natalie worked her hips. What would it be like, to be in Jordan's position? What would it feel like to have that pounding into her? Natalie's powerful hips, driving her thick cock deep inside, splitting her open with relentless force. Pounding so hard the bed rocked.

The idea …

The idea disgusted her, of course.

"Hello? Anyone home?" Natalie said, jolting Sofia back to the moment. "Princess?"

Sofia's eyes flicked back up to Natalie's face. She realized she'd just been standing there, staring. Not responding. What had Natalie said?

Natalie looked amused, which didn't spell anything good. "Tell you what," she said, her voice taunting. "Since you want to watch so bad, come here. You can do it up close."

"… what?"

It actually took a second for the words to register. Why were her thoughts so sluggish?

"You heard her," Jordan said. Her tone was surprisingly lucid, her eyes bright with amusement. Sofia joining the fray had apparently cleared away some of her melting-down thoughts. She wanted to tease Sofia that badly. "Aren't you supposed to do whatever your Master says?"

Sofia stiffened. "Master?" Natalie had told Jordan about that? That was … so humiliating. It was one thing to demand that of her in private, but her friends knowing?

Why … did it make her stomach clench? Knowing that Jordan was aware of that mortifying development? Why was her traitorous body always responding like this?

And, even more relevantly, why was she obeying? Her feet carried her toward the bed, approaching Natalie like she'd been ordered to.

Because of the bet, Sofia told herself. And the collar. The collar which she was wearing—which she had buttoned her uniform up over, the shirt's collar fortunately tall enough to hide it. She'd known it would be better to keep it equipped, in case, well, something like this happened. She'd just expected Natalie to take advantage of the situation in class, not this early in the morning. And not with Jordan.

Though, the bet, and Natalie, wasn't remotely how this had happened. Sofia had walked into this mess. Voluntarily. Unnecessarily. Then stayed.

Seriously—why?

"Get on the bed," Natalie said.

Sofia, again, obeyed. She climbed onto the plush sheets. Her body not hesitating.

Because of the collar.

The collar. Not because the authority in Natalie's voice switched her brain off. Not because surrendering to her came with a rush of intoxicating excitement that she couldn't even begin to put into words. Not because Natalie's confident, taunting gaze left her so dizzy and weak-kneed that she felt like she was close to fainting.

No, the collar. And the bet. She was simply accepting her lot in life. It was a task that she had to see through. She was a woman of her word. And a practical woman.

Natalie picked Jordan up, handling the woman easily.

"Lie down," she told Sofia.

Sofia did.

Natalie shuffled forward, then dropped Jordan onto her. Jordan's sweaty, naked curves pressed into Sofia's uniform, and Sofia froze beneath her, the other woman's proximity finally turning off whatever last parts of her brain had been functional.

Jordan also looked surprised by the position Natalie had chosen. "Lucky you," she murmured, green eyes just as taunting as Natalie's, but friendlier, and only a few inches from Sofia. She cozied up, indulgently getting situated. "You really get the V.I.P. treatment, don't you?" She buried her face into Sofia's neck just as Natalie's hips hit her ass, and the impact bounced both of them.

Natalie was ...

Fucking Jordan. While Jordan was on top of her.

And still, she wasn't stopping them?