Publicly Display Yourself for Me by Aphrodite Hunt Page A

little girl in
want of smacking.
    Alice narrows her eyes. She puts her hands
on her hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “To the beach,” I squeak.
    Yes, yes, I’m still a coward.
    She moves closer to me. So close that I can
see the mascara on her long eyelashes and the fine makeup on her
face.
    She hisses, “Don’t think I don’t know what
you’ve been up to with my father.”
    I’m too frightened to say anything. My
tongue seems to have turned into a piece of leather, and a cold
draft wraps itself around my bare legs.
    “I know what you’re trying to do,” she goes
on, the light in her eyes taking on a devilish cast. “I want you to
know that you won’t get away with it.”
    An answer forms like a bubble in my throat. But I’m not trying to get away with anything! Does she mean
the contract? I thought it was a ‘willing buyer, willing seller’
case.
    Unless . . . unless she thinks I want
something more outside the contract.
    Do I?
    Well, I do want the affections of her
younger brother, but does that count? Or do I know myself and my
secret inclinations as well as I think?
    “I – I – ” I stammer.
    A girl tumbles out of the den, laughing. Her
hair is coppery and streaked with blonde. Her complexion is clear
and pink. Health glows from every pore of her athletic body, and
she’s wearing a Nike tank top with running pants. Her midriff
displays a bellybutton ring. A tattoo of a beautiful woman’s face
adorns her right arm.
    “Say, Alice – ” she stops short when she
sees me. “Hey, who’s this? You didn’t tell me you had other
visitors?”
    “She’s not a visitor anymore,” Alice sneers.
“I’ll tell you later exactly what she is.”
    The girl’s eyes roam up and down my body. A
flush comes to my cheeks. I am no stranger to having someone gaze
at me with desire, of course – but this girl wears a ravenous
hunger in her eyes, as if she’s a beast who would like to devour
me.
    “Heather?” A man exits the den to stride
into the hall. He pauses in his tracks as soon as he sees me.
    I recognize him, of course.
    No wonder his voice is so familiar. I
remember his soothing tones in Dean Whitehouse’s mansion during the
night of my final Initiation. I recall his hands bathing me, his
fingers worming into the tight confines of my pussy as he cleans my
insides. I remember desiring his prettily decorated cock so badly
there was an actual ache in my loins.
    “Greg!” I say, doing everything I can to
stop myself from running into his arms.

2
     
    “Gina?” His face lights up.
    An inexplicable joy explodes within my
chest. I’ve always liked Greg. No . . . I adore him. Of all
the people who initiated me, he by far has been the kindest – even
when he has no need to be.
    He is as handsome as ever – with his curly
hair, now a tad longer, and the sexy cleft in his chin. His beauty
is different from Max’s. More boy-next-door wholesome as opposed to
my boyfriend’s Abercrombie and Fitch model looks. His arm muscles
bulge from the T-shirt he is wearing, which is not particularly
form-fitting or tight.
    Alice turns to him and possessively hugs his
waist. Lover-type possessive.
    Oh no.
    “You know her?” she says jealously.
    “Sure, of course. Gina is, uh . . . ” He
arrests my eyes, unsure if he should proceed.
    I don’t know how much Alice knows of what
goes on in an Initiation, but I’m not sure if Greg wants her to
know that he was part of mine .
    “I’m Max’s girlfriend,” I conclude for Greg.
My heart is tapping fast against my ribcage. Greg is such a fine,
decent young man. Far too good for the likes of Alice, even if
she’s an heiress to a billionaire’s fortune – divided four ways, of
course.
    Greg’s face is open and searching.
    “So you hooked up with Max?” he marvels.
“Wonders never cease.”
    “What do you mean by that?” I say.
    “It’s just that I have never seen him hook
up with an . . . uh – ”
    Again he stops. I know he was going to