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Trigger/Content Warning:

This Chapter contains scenes of obsessive sexual fantasy, power play, and non-explicit but intense suggestive content. Themes of emotional manipulation, unhealthy fixation, and simulated dominance/submission dynamics are present. Reader discretion is advised.

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Elsie Lyka Lancaster always wore a tight, perfect mask. But right now, that mask was cracking, even though she covered it up by laughing too hard at the jokes those bimbos told. Even though she drank like hell to drown the blinding white-hot anger running through her veins.

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

The audacity of that bitch.

Still, she didn’t let it show. Keep your composure, her mother Caroline had drilled into her since she could talk. If you must fall apart, never do it in public.

So Elsie danced harder, smiling through the irritation that buzzed like an itch beneath her skin, refusing to let it win.

But as soon as the last guest was gone, leaving just her and Grace, she let the monster out.

"Damn it!" Elsie screamed, grabbing one of the glass cups and hurling it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass gave her some sort of satisfaction. She felt better releasing her frustration this way. But it still wasn’t enough.

At once, Elsie’s gaze drifted to Grace, and she made up her mind like a lioness who had just decided on which prey to pounce on. She strode over to where Grace was cleaning up and grasped her cheeks tightly, the pressure almost painful.

Grace winced, her heart racing as she looked into Elsie’s intense gaze. "What did I do wrong this time?" she asked fearfully.

"Nothing. It’s simply time to play games, Gracey," Elsie said cryptically.

But at the mention of games, Grace’s fear vanished, replaced by a spark of excitement that danced across her eyes. "As you wish, Elsie," she replied, her voice tinged with what sounded like delight.

Then Grace disappeared into the adjoining room, the door creaking slightly behind her while Elsie waited with anticipation. When she returned, her face was obscured by a meticulously crafted mask resembling Asher.

Yes. Asher Nightshade.

The mask was an uncanny likeness, capturing Asher’s features in a way that was both artful and eerie. But the mask was only part of the transformation because Grace also held a wicked-looking whip, its leather tightly braided.

Instead of being freaked out or even questioning the weird transformation, the queen bee’s demeanor changed entirely. Elsie walked up to Grace, her hips swaying, and sank to her knees with sultry grace.

"I need to confess something, Alpha Asher. I’ve been a bad girl," she purred, her voice dripping with desire.

Grace, now fully embodying Asher’s persona, straightened her posture and adopted an authoritative tone. "Good. Bad girls need to be punished. Now go kneel before the couch and accept your punishment," she commanded.

"Yes, Alpha Asher." Elsie Lancaster was all in with complete seriousness.

Elsie moved over to the couch. Then she slipped off her short skirt with an intentionally tantalizing slowness, letting it fall to the floor and revealing the white panties she wore beneath. With a seductive flair, she removed them as well, her breathing heavy and charged with anticipation.

"Punish me, Asher," she pleaded, eager for what was to come as she bent over the couch.

Standing over her, Grace wielded the whip with a sense of power, bringing it down across Elsie’s bare skin, the sound reverberating through the room like a crack of thunder.

Elsie gasped from the sudden sharp pain, but she chucked delightfully the next seconds, obviously drinking it all in. The pain was delicious and she panted, "Again!"

It was obvious that this was not the first time they had played this game seeing the way Grace flogged her with much more force yet she laughed in pleasure.

"Yes, Again! Asher! Please break me! Use me for your satisfaction." Elsie moaned in wanton need, egging Grace who flogged her over and over again till her ass cheeks were red. Yet she didn’t want her to stop. She could take the pain. She could take it all for Asher.

Since the Alpha King had forbidden the cardinal alphas from laying a hand on her till one of them had fought and claimed her, it was clear that Elsie Lancaster found satisfaction through other obvious means — her fantasy.

And who better to indulge that fantasy with than her favorite, Asher Nightshade? In this twisted game, it was her Asher who desired her, not that street-born whore, Violet.

Elsie had heard the rumors about Henry’s abuse and figured Asher had developed a taste for pain. If he liked it rough, she would be ready. She would make herself his perfect tool.

So she cried out, "More! Give me more!"

"You must have a taste for pain, bitch," Grace laughed, slipping from her role for a moment. Her eyes were wild, fueled by the power play and the thick adrenaline in the air.

Elsie didn’t care about the words, if anything, they turned her on. She imagined it was Asher saying them in that husky, sexy tone of his.

Grace didn’t stop the punishment, each lash falling harder than the last until Elsie’s skin broke open in angry, crimson lines. Her moans grew louder, desperate, a twisted symphony of agony and ecstasy that echoed through the space.

And then, Elsie shattered.

Her body seized, thighs clenching tight, grinding against the couch for friction as a raw, trembling orgasm ripped through her, fed by the sting of pain and the fantasy she had built around it.

Her breath came in fast as she turned and sat back, the aftershocks still dancing under her skin. One would think that after such an intense experience, Elsie would be satisfied. But no, it was not enough. She wanted more.

Thanks to Alpha king Elijah’s decree, she couldn’t cross certain lines. She had to stay untouched, the perfect pristine prize waiting to be claimed by the alpha deemed worthy. A white dove locked in a golden cage.

The rule made things difficult especially now her body was wound so tight it felt like her skin couldn’t contain it anymore. The ache hadn’t gone away, their game had only intensified it.

Good thing she’d found the perfect loophole, just enough to dance around the rule without losing her precious virginity.

So Elsie sat and spread her legs and Grace who was kneeling before her didn’t need to be told what that move was for.

The girl took off the mask and doved down, pressing her lips to her heated core. Elsie’s head lulled back in delight, her lips parted in a gasp. God, It felt so good and Grace was shockingly good at it.

Grace explored every inch of her with her tongue, lavishing her until Elsie reached that explosive climax.

This was goddamn heaven.