Chapter 2: Reflections

Candy woke before dawn the next morning, her body still heavy with exhaustion from a restless night. She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her sister, and after a quick shower she made her way downstairs from the apartment she shared with her sister, to the shop below. The tension from the previous day clung to her, a dull ache that neither sleep nor time had eased. If anything, the brief, uneasy rest had only magnified her worries and the unsettling arousal that simmered just beneath the surface.

Descending the stairs into the quiet kitchen, the familiar warmth greeted her, but today, even the comforting routine of baking failed to distract her as her thoughts kept drifting back to the previous day.

After the elderly couple had left the shop yesterday, Candy had done everything she could to avoid Nick. She kept a safe distance and busied herself with work, rearranging the candy displays, icing a batch of spider web cupcakes, and putting up the last of the Halloween decorations. Every stolen glance at Nick, every subtle movement he made, sent her nerves spiraling.

Nick, on the other hand, had looked completely unbothered. If anything, he seemed amused by her avoidance, that ever-present smirk never quite fading. Every now and then, she’d catch him watching her, his eyes dark with something that made her stomach twist in a way that was equal parts desire and frustration.

They hadn’t spoken again until closing.

Candy had turned off the lights in the shop, the flickering jack-o’-lanterns and the soft glow from street lamps outside casting long shadows through the store. Nick stood by the door, leaning against the frame with an ease that only made him more imposing. The smallness of the Candy’s Confections felt suffocating, like there was no escape from his magnetic pull.

“You got awfully quiet,” he’d said, his voice smooth and teasing. “Everything okay, Candy?”

Her heart had raced at his words, and she wiped her hands on her apron, attempting to keep her composure. “Just busy,” she’d replied, her voice tight, betraying her nerves. She’d turned her back to him, focusing on closing the register, hoping he would let it go.

But of course, Nick hadn’t.

He’d leaned in, invading her space, his body crowding her until escape felt impossible. That damn smirk was on his face, teasing and playful as if he had her all figured out. She could still remember how his fingers had slid over her hips, possessive and sure. His unwanted touch sparked a jolt of excitement that coursed through her. She hated that. Hated how easily her body responded to him, hated how it kept betraying her.

“Busy, huh?” he’d murmured, his breath warm against her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

Before she could protest, she felt his hands move up her sides, his fingertips brushing against her breasts, his touch both light and teasing. Her heart hammered in her chest, the ache between her thighs growing unbearable.

“Stop,” she’d whispered, hating how breathless her voice had sounded.

Nick’s chuckle was low and rumbling, making her skin tingle. He’d cupped her breasts in his large hands, his thumbs stroking the peaks, making them harden and sending waves of heat straight to her core. “You want me to stop, Candy?” His voice was dark and taunting, a challenge she couldn’t accept or resist.

“No.” It was barely a whisper, her resolve crumbling.

That had been all the invitation he’d needed. Nick had turned her to face him and pressed her against the counter, the hard planes of his body a perfect fit to her soft curves. She could feel the bulge in his jeans, and the thought that he wanted her was both exciting and terrifying.

His fingers pinched and pulled her nipples, twisting the sensitive buds with sudden viciousness. It hurt, the pain sharp and unexpected, and Candy gasped. She was wet, embarrassingly so, and her hips moved forward of their own volition, pressing her needy sex against his hardness.

A growl rumbled in his chest, and he’d leaned in, his mouth pressed against the shell of her ear, his tongue darting out to trace the curve. “You know, you’re a little more ... generous than I usually go for.” He’d said, emphasizing the point by giving her breasts another firm squeeze. “I normally go for girls like your sister.”

Candy had tensed at the mention of Chrissy, the humiliation making her face flush. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but Nick only tightened his grip, one hand reaching up to wrap around her throat, squeezing with just enough force to make breathing difficult.

“I mean, you’re pretty,” he continued, his voice soft and teasing, as if they were simply having a casual conversation. “But nice tits are no excuse to pack on pounds.”

She could feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her face burning. “Stop,” she’d croaked, struggling to draw breath.

Nick only laughed, a deep, throaty sound that had made her cunt clench. “Consider Chrissy,” he’d said, his teeth dragging against her earlobe, sending a shudder through her. “She’s got a great rack, but she keeps it tight. And that ass ... damn. But you? You’re not exactly a supermodel.”

Candy swallowed against the tight grip on her throat. His words stung, and the tears spilled freely down her cheeks, hot and humiliating. Of course, she knew what she looked like. She had always been plump, even when she was younger, but over the years, she’d accepted her curves. Chrissy, on the other hand, had always been the thin one, the prettier sister, the one all the boys adored. Like Candy, she had their mother’s large, round tits, but without the added padding. She was the supermodel. Candy was ... not.

Candy knew all this. But hearing Nick say it, hearing the contempt in his voice, had made her stomach twist. She had closed her eyes, willing herself to ignore him, wishing he would stop.

“Hey, don’t be jealous, little one. I like you too,” he’d whispered, his tongue tracing the line of her jaw, the gentleness of the gesture only making her more aware of the threat he posed. His free hand slid down her belly, pushing beneath the waistband of her leggings. Candy had worn them instead of jeans, her usual choice, because she’d seen Nick checking out her ass the day before. They were tight and left very little to the imagination, but she had wanted to look good for him. She’d hoped he might appreciate her thicker curves.

She could feel his fingers pushing aside the soft material of her panties, and she squirmed against his hold, the grip on her throat tightening further, cutting off her air supply. “Don’t fight me,” he’d growled.

A strangled sob escaped her, and she had squeezed her eyes shut, her tears spilling down her cheeks as he forced his fingers inside her, her body wet and yielding.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet,” he’d said. “Did talking about your sister turn you on?”

“N-no,” she’d whispered, the lie catching in her throat. She didn’t understand it. This was humiliating, and painful, and yet ... her body betrayed her, responding to his cruelty as much as his touch.

“Pathetic,” Nick had muttered, his tone mocking and disdainful. “This is why I normally avoid the chubby ones. Too desperate for approval.”

He’d pumped his fingers inside her, curling them to hit a sensitive spot that made her knees buckle. Her traitorous little pussy had clamped down on his digits, a moan escaping her despite herself.

“But fuck, you’ve got a tight little cum-catcher hiding under all those curves,” he’d laughed.

The words were vulgar and dirty, and they made her insides clench. She hated herself for being so affected by him. For wanting him. She wanted to protest, but she could hardly breathe, his fingers digging into her throat with bruising intensity.

“Good news, Candy,” he’d teased. “I’ve decided you’re going to be mine.”

She shook her head, her vision darkening. “P-please, let go,” she’d gasped, clawing at his wrist.

“You want me to stop, Candy?” His voice was deceptively soft.

Candy could only nod.

Nick had eased his grip on her throat, just enough for her to take a deep, shuddering breath. “Please,” she’d whimpered.

“Okay,” he’d chuckled. “I’ll stop.”

The relief had been instant. He’d pulled his fingers out of her pussy and let go of her throat. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths. She wrapped her arms around herself like she could physically shield herself from him.

He’d leaned against the counter, his eyes dark and hungry, drinking her in. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, his voice casual.

Candy had looked up, confused. “W-what?”

“You’re not just going to be mine,” he said. “You’re going to be my fucktoy.”

Candy had shuddered at his words, a mix of arousal and dread. Then he’d held out his fingers, slick and shining with her juices. “Clean,” he’d ordered.

Her face had flushed. The thought of taking his fingers in her mouth and tasting herself on him made her stomach flip. “I ... no,” she’d whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.

Nick’s expression darkened, and he leaned in, grabbing her chin roughly. “Do it,” he’d snarled. “Or I fuck you right here on the floor. In the back of the candy store, like some cheap whore. Is that what you want?”

It was too much. Candy had shaken her head, the shame of it settling heavily on her chest. She’d opened her mouth obediently, her cheeks burning with humiliation as his fingers pressed inside, forcing her to taste herself. She’d cleaned them dutifully, her tongue tracing his digits, until she could no longer taste herself.

When Nick had pulled his fingers from her mouth, Candy had sunk back, hugging her knees to her chest. She was afraid. Afraid of him, and more than that, afraid of her own body’s response to him.

He’d crouched down, tilting her chin up so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “You’re going to do everything I tell you,” he’d said, his voice soft and dangerous.

Candy had swallowed, nodding weakly.

“Good girl.” He’d straightened, turning away.

“Wait,” she’d said, her voice trembling. “What about my sister?”

He’d smiled at that, an unsettling grin that had made her stomach lurch. “What about her?”

“Are you ... going to be with her too?”

He’d given a soft laugh. “Why do you ask? Jealous?”

“No.” It was a lie, and a pathetic one at that.

Nick had crouched down again, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her towards him. She gasped at the sudden movement, falling against his chest. “Chrissy is a different sort of girl,” he’d murmured, his tone almost kind. “Girls like your sister have too much self-respect to be proper fucktoys.”

Candy had flinched, feeling her stomach sink. Nick was right, of course. Chrissy was the pretty one. The popular one. The prom queen. She was the one the boys always wanted, and the one that Candy could never be. Chrissy would never allow herself to be so utterly debased.