Chapter 13

Finally, I could enjoy freedom, being away. Armed with Roxy’s advice, an opportunity to give Rod what he needed, soaking up the sun and attention, my focus on him. The weight of the golden necklace around my neck—my “gift in life” from Mistress, engraved with slut on the inside—felt familiar, comforting even. It was a constant reminder of my purpose, of how far I’d come. I wore it with pride now, and its presence spurred me to act accordingly. Rod didn’t know the full story, of course. He didn’t know that every move I made, every sultry glance, every suggestive word, was still guided by Mistress’s training. But he loved the results, and that was all that mattered.

The morning sun bathed the resort in golden light, and I was ready to make my grand entrance at the pool. My platinum blonde hair was pulled into a high, playful ponytail that swayed with every step of my wedge sandals. My jewelry sparkled in the sunlight—thick golden hoops, layers of bracelets, and, of course, the necklace resting just above my tan, sculpted cleavage. My makeup was flawless: extra-long lashes, perfectly winged eyeliner, and glossy neon-pink lips that made my pout look even more obscene.

I’d chosen my tiniest bikini for the occasion—a neon green string set that barely covered me. The triangle top struggled to contain my fake tits, while the thong bottom showcased my perfectly tanned, ass. Every inch of my body had been sculpted and smoothed to perfection, and I knew it. I felt it in the way my piercings—my clit, my tongue, my Monroe and cute belly ring—reminded me with every move that I was made to be seen, desired.

When Rod and I entered the pool area, heads turned. I could feel the stares, the mixture of awe, jealousy, and lust washing over us like a wave. It made my clit throb, the piercing pressing against the tiny string of my bikini bottom. I leaned into Rod, wrapping my arm around his strong, tanned bicep.

“Babe, they’re all looking at you,” I teased, giggling as I kissed his shoulder. “Can you blame them? My man is so freaking hot.”

Rod chuckled, his confidence radiating as he guided me to a pair of loungers near the pool. “Pretty sure they’re looking at you, Liz,” he replied, his tone filled with pride.

I smiled up at him, my lips glossy and pouty. “Well, they can look all they want,” I purred. “But they can’t touch. I’m yours, babe. All yours.”

Settling onto the lounger, I watched as Rod removed his shirt, revealing his toned, muscular chest. I couldn’t help myself—I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, my tongue flicking out to graze his skin.

“You’ve been working out so hard,” I said, my voice dripping with admiration. “I can’t get enough of how strong you’ve gotten. My man could probably lift me with one arm.”

Rod laughed, clearly enjoying the attention. “Maybe I’ll test that later,” he said, his tone playful.

I giggled, running my fingers down his abs. “You better. I’m feeling so naughty today, babe.”

I stood up, adjusting my bikini top and making sure my fake tits were sitting perfectly. “Let me get us some drinks,” I said, swaying my hips as I walked toward the bar. My wedges clicked against the tiles, drawing attention with every step.

The bartender, a young guy with messy hair and a shy smile, couldn’t stop staring as I approached. “Hi there, handsome,” I said, leaning forward just enough to give him an eyeful of my cleavage. “Two margaritas, please. And make them strong—I’ve got a lot of energy to burn today.”

His face turned red as he nodded, fumbling with the blender. I twirled a strand of my hair around my finger, batting my lashes at him. “Thanks, sweetie,” I said when he handed me the drinks. “You’re the best.”

As I walked back to Rod, I could feel the bartender’s eyes on me, and it sent a thrill through my body. I loved the attention, the way my presence could leave people flustered and distracted.

Back at the lounger, I handed Rod his drink and straddled his lap, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Cheers, babe,” I said, clinking my glass against his.

Rod smirked, his hands resting on my hips. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

I giggled, running my nails lightly down his chest. “Of course I am. I love being your trophy.”

“You’re more than that,” he said, his tone serious. “You’re my everything, Liz.”

His words made my heart swell, and I leaned in to kiss him again, this time deeper, more passionate.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of sun and laughter. I massaged sunscreen onto Rod’s back, my hands lingering as I admired his strength. I couldn’t resist teasing him, pressing my lips to his ear and whispering, “I love how hard your muscles feel under my fingers. It makes me so wet.”

He growled softly, his grip on my thigh tightening. “You’re unbelievable, Liz.”

“I know,” I replied with a giggle, winking as I sat back.

By the time the sun began to set, it was clear we were that couple—the ones everyone at the resort noticed, talked about, envied. Liz and Rod: the sexy, successful, head-turning duo.

And as I lay beside Rod, my head on his shoulder, I felt completely at ease. I was living my purpose, fulfilling Mistress’s training and making Rod the happiest man alive. My heart—and my wet, throbbing pussy—knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

The day at the pool had been fantastic. Liz was an absolute magnet for attention, strutting in her tiny neon green string bikini that barely covered anything. Her tan was already flawless, her body smooth and golden, and every inch of her screamed sex appeal. She was the kind of woman you couldn’t help but notice, her platinum ponytail bouncing as she moved, her glossy lips catching the sun, her long nails tapping against her drink as she flirted and laughed with everyone.

I felt it in the way other men watched her, their gazes full of jealousy and lust. But she was mine—every pout, every teasing glance, every seductive word was meant for me. She made me feel like a king, and I’d started to love this dynamic, this boldness that had become her new normal. Her antics had a way of erasing any doubts I might have had. She was my sun kissed beautiful wife, and I was growing more confident because of it.

That night, we headed to the club. Liz had outdone herself, as usual. She wore leather shorts that barely covered her perfect ass, paired with a black leather top that showcased her fake tits in all their glory. Her heels were impossibly high, her makeup flawless, and her piercings glinted under the dim club lights.

The moment we stepped inside, heads turned. Liz owned the room, moving with the confidence of someone who knew she was the hottest person there. Her body swayed to the music, her fake tits bouncing enticingly as she danced, and her glow-in-the-dark tongue stud caught the light every time she opened her mouth to laugh or sing along.

I watched, captivated, as she danced like no one else in the club could even compete. The way she moved was mesmerizing—her hips rolling, her hands trailing down her body, her ass bouncing perfectly in time with the music. She looked like a seasoned stripper, every move calculated to drive the crowd wild.

She danced up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body against mine. Her breath was warm against my ear as she whispered, “You like watching me, babe? Watching me drive all these losers crazy?”

“You’re incredible,” I admitted, my voice hoarse.

She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, her glossy lips curving into a wicked smile. “Only for you, stud. But...” Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. “I’m feeling really naughty tonight.”

Her hand slipped down my chest, her nails grazing my skin through my shirt. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing my ear. “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” she whispered, her tongue flicking out to graze my earlobe. “I want to show you something.”

Before I could respond, she was gone, sashaying through the crowd, her leather shorts clinging to her ass, her heels clicking against the floor.

When I entered the dimly lit bathroom, she was waiting for me, leaning against the counter with a coy smile on her lips. “Took you long enough,” she teased, reaching out to grab my hand and pull me closer.

Her hands were on my belt before I could even speak, her nails gliding over the leather. She dropped to her knees, looking up at me with those big, doll-like eyes. “You’ve been so good to me, babe,” she said sweetly, licking her lips. “Let me take care of you.”

Her lips wrapped around me, warm and wet, and her tongue stud added an extra sensation that made me groan. She worked me expertly, her hands cradling my balls as she took me deeper and deeper. “You like my fake cockcushions around your big dick?” she murmured between strokes, her voice muffled but still dripping with seduction.

“Fuck, Liz,” I groaned, my hands tangling in her hair.

She gagged slightly as I guided her head, her throat tightening around me. She didn’t pull back, didn’t flinch—she just moaned softly, the vibrations driving me crazy. When I finally released, she pulled back just enough to catch it on her tongue, her glow-in-the-dark stud glinting under the bathroom lights.

I thought she’d swallow it then and there, but instead, she grabbed my hand and pulled me back to the dance floor. I followed, still dazed, as she moved through the crowd with a devilish grin.

She danced up to me, opening her mouth just enough to show the cum still sitting on her tongue. People around us stared in awe and disbelief as she tilted her head back and swallowed, her throat bobbing with the motion.

I was stunned, my mind racing. “Liz...”

“Don’t worry, babe,” she said playfully, pressing her body against mine. “We are free and away from every dark eye.” Shit she was right.

Her laughter was carefree, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that left me breathless.

The rest of the night was a blur of music, laughter, and lust. Liz was wild, uninhibited, and absolutely perfect. She was my slut, my wife, my everything. And as we stumbled back to the hotel, her arm wrapped around mine, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive.

The sun was high, casting its warm, golden glow over the beach. I stretched out on our plush beach bed, my body shimmering with oil, every inch of me designed to be noticed. My gold bikini, barely there and studded with tiny rhinestones, caught the light with every movement, ensuring I outshone every other chick on the beach. My platinum hair was pulled into a playful high ponytail, and my long nails—painted a glimmering metallic pink—tapped against my cocktail glass as I sipped.

Rod was lounging beside me, looking every bit the strong, confident man he’d become. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but I couldn’t ignore the way his gaze drifted either. All around us, women lay basking in the sun—tattooed, pierced, and effortlessly flaunting their bodies. I felt the stir of insecurity bubbling in my chest. They weren’t me, but they were bold, and they were catching his attention.

I shifted slightly, angling my body toward him, making sure my fake tits pushed up enticingly. My clit piercing gave a little throb as I rubbed my thighs together subtly, the faint reminder of my submissive nature soothing and arousing all at once. I needed his eyes on me, his attention locked on his slut.

“Honey,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “Why don’t you get a tattoo?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “A tattoo?” I echoed, my voice carrying a surprised little giggle. “What kind of tattoo are you thinking?”

He shrugged, his fingers idly tracing circles on my thigh. “Something sexy. Maybe on your hip or lower back. You know, something that says you’re mine.”

I bit my lip, feeling a rush of warmth spread through me. The thought of permanently marking myself for him was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. “You think that’d look good on me?” I asked, batting my lashes as I leaned closer to him, my glossed lips brushing his shoulder.

“It’d look incredible,” he said, his eyes glinting with that confidence that always sent a thrill through me.

The idea lingered in my mind as I stretched back on the bed, my heart racing. The thought of Rod’s pride, his possessive hand grazing over a new tattoo meant just for him, sent a delicious shiver through me. But my mind quickly flitted to Mistress. I’d have to get her approval first—her opinion was the ultimate decider, and I knew better than to act without consulting her.

Later, as we lay there soaking up the sun, Rod’s gaze followed a woman walking by. She had silver nipple rings that glinted in the sunlight, her body moving with easy confidence. My stomach twisted with a pang of jealousy, but I forced a sweet giggle to cover it.

“Or maybe your nipples pierced,” Rod said casually, his tone light but undeniably interested.

“My nipples pierced?” I repeated, trying to sound playful while my heart skipped a beat. I could feel my cheeks heating up, a mixture of shock and arousal flooding my system.

“Why not?” he said, shrugging. His hand slid over my ass possessively, his fingers giving me a playful squeeze. “You’d look incredible. Even more decorated.”

I let out a breathy laugh, leaning into his touch. “You just want me to be your little slutty Christmas tree, don’t you?” I teased, sticking out my tongue and wiggling my piercing at him.

He laughed, his grip tightening. “Maybe I do. You’d be perfect, Liz.”

I giggled again, my mind racing. I couldn’t say yes—not yet. Mistress’s rules were clear, and I wasn’t about to step out of line. But the idea of doing this for Rod, of pushing myself further to keep him captivated, was irresistible.

As we walked back up the beach, I clung to his arm, my hips swaying exaggeratedly with every step. My clit piercing rubbed deliciously against the fabric of my bikini bottom, a constant reminder of my submission, my purpose.

“Do you think those girls are jealous of me?” I asked, my voice a playful lilt as I looked up at him.

“They should be,” he replied, his eyes raking over my body.

I giggled, nipping at his shoulder. “Good. Because I’m the hottest slut on this beach, and I’m all yours.”

Rod smirked, his confidence radiating. His approval made me feel powerful, but it also fueled my craving to do more for him. As we headed back to our suite, my mind raced with possibilities. A tattoo? Nipple piercings? Whatever it took to keep him looking at me the way he did, to hear him call me perfect, I’d do it.

Mistress’s voice echoed in my head: “Be creative, slut.” I smiled to myself, already planning how to make Rod’s fantasies come to life.

The moment Rod stepped into the shower, I slipped out of the room, phone in hand. My heart raced as I dialed Mistress’s number, the anticipation and need to hear her voice making my fingers tremble slightly. She answered on the second ring, her tone as commanding and firm as ever.

“Hello, Mistress,” I said softly, my voice tinged with excitement and nervousness.

“Liz,” she replied curtly. “What do you need, slut?”

“Rod mentioned ... getting a tattoo,” I began, the words spilling out faster than I’d intended. “And maybe my nipples pierced. He seemed excited about it, but I wanted to make sure it’s okay with you. I don’t want to disappoint you, Mistress.”

There was a pause, then a low, amused chuckle. “Of course he did. He’s growing into the man you need him to be. I approve of the nipple piercings, but make sure they’re 8-gauge. They’ll stand out more, and they’ll look better on your slut body. As for the tattoo...” She trailed off, and I hung on her every word. “Let Rod choose it. Show him how much you’re willing to please him. Be sweet, be seductive, but make it clear that you’re his.”

Relief washed over me as her approval set my course. “Thank you, Mistress,” I murmured, my voice dripping with gratitude. “I promise I’ll make you proud.”

“You better,” she replied, her tone sharp yet encouraging. “Now, go be the perfect slut for your man. Don’t forget who you belong to, Liz.”

The call ended, and I stood there for a moment, clutching the phone to my chest. Mistress’s words always had a way of grounding me and giving me purpose. Her guidance made everything clear—I knew exactly what I needed to do.

That evening, I chose my outfit carefully. The colorful Versace bodysuit I’d bought with my own hard-earned stripper cash hugged every curve, its luxurious fabric making me feel both elegant and filthy. It was the perfect blend of classy and nasty, my fake tits practically spilling out, nipples poking through just enough to tease. My black leather thigh-high boots completed the look, their stiletto heels clicking loudly on the tile floor as we walked into the restaurant, each step proclaiming my arrival.

My jewelry was excessive, gold bracelets clinking with every movement and a thick chain necklace that rested perfectly above my cleavage. I had polished my nails to perfection, their length and shimmer adding to the overall look of indulgence and decadence. My lips were coated in glossy pink, my lashes long and fluttery, and my Monroe piercing sparkled in the low restaurant lighting. I was a trophy, a prize, and I knew it.

At dinner, I leaned close to Rod, my hand resting high on his thigh under the table. “You look so handsome tonight, stud,” I purred, letting my fingers trace slow circles on his leg. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself later so you can fuck my brains out.”

His eyes darkened with desire, and I felt his hand tighten on my thigh, his grip possessive. That look of hunger in his eyes sent a rush of satisfaction through me. I wanted him to feel powerful, to see me as his—completely and utterly his.

I made sure every move I made commanded attention. My laughter was a little too loud, my nails tapping rhythmically against my wineglass as I sipped slowly. I adjusted my boobs, letting the bodysuit dip just a bit lower to show more cleavage. The waiter approached, his eyes flickering between my face and chest, and I couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Do you like my necklace?” I asked, leaning forward so it dangled just above my exposed cleavage. “It’s a gift from my husband,” I added, letting my tongue flick out just enough to show the glint of my piercing.

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” he stammered, his face turning red.

Rod’s hand slid higher on my thigh, a silent message that made me smile.

“Such a polite young man,” I said sweetly, winking at the waiter as I handed him my menu, my nails brushing against his hand deliberately. “Thank you, sugar. You’re just adorable.”

Throughout the meal, I lavished Rod with attention. My hands caressed his leg under the table, my lips whispering promises of the things I’d do to him later. “I’ll make you feel so good tonight, babe,” I murmured, my voice dripping with seduction. “I’ll show you just how much I love this strong, sexy body of yours.”

Rod’s pride was evident in the way he sat a little taller, his chest puffed out as he drank in my compliments. I could feel his confidence growing with every touch, every sweet, dirty word I whispered.

By the time we left the restaurant, he was practically glowing. I looped my arm through his, leaning into him as we walked. “You know,” I said playfully, looking up at him through my lashes, “every woman in that room was jealous of me.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

I nodded, my voice lowering to a sultry whisper. “Of course they were. They’re jealous because I have you. And they know I’m the nastiest slut in the world for my man.”

His hand slid to my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re perfect,” he said simply, and my heart swelled with pride.

As we walked back to the hotel, my heels clicking on the pavement, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d done exactly what Mistress had instructed—been the perfect slut for Rod, showing him that I was his in every way that mattered.

Sipping my aged rum on the balcony, I allowed myself a moment to contemplate my luck. Life had been good to me, and I felt it in my pumped-up body, the result of months of discipline and hard work. The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and orange, and I found myself smiling as I thought about Liz. She had left the pool earlier, eager to get ready for our night out. Women and their beauty routines—she always took her time, but the results were worth it.

I finally headed to our room to change, slipping into my summer suit. The crisp linen fit perfectly, emphasizing my toned frame. As I adjusted my tie, I heard Liz humming to herself in the bathroom. I called out, “How’s it going in there, babe?”

“Almost ready, Daddy,” she chimed back in a playful, sing-song tone.

The word stopped me cold for a moment. Daddy. A thrill shot through me, unexpected and powerful. My mind raced as I replayed it in my head, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. She’d never called me that before. I liked the way it sounded.

When Liz finally stepped out of the bathroom, I froze, utterly flabbergasted. She stood there, a vision of hypersexualized beauty that screamed confidence and raw sex appeal. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded in loose waves, her makeup flawlessly executed with dramatic lashes, glittering pink lips, and sharp winged eyeliner that made her look like a living Barbie Doll. Large gold hoops adorned her ears, and a chunky gold necklace rested above her perfect, tanned cleavage.

She was wearing white leather thigh-high boots with golden stiletto heels that clicked with every step. Her tiny white leather shorts barely covered her ass, the curve of her cheeks peeking out just enough to make my heart race. Her top—a tight white crop that read Doll in sparkly letters—was even more daring, showing plenty of underboob, her tanned tits spilling out provocatively. I could see the faint shadow of her nipples, and it was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.