Prologue: Sunrise

“Monday,” My voice was gravelly as I moaned into my pillow. Who in the world likes Monday? Ironically, I always enjoy the most pleasant dreams on that first morning of the week. However, by the third punch of the snooze button, the memories are so foggy I can barely remember them. Yet the firm evidence of my arousal remained. I was fucking someone: A teacher, a cheerleader, or a tennis player; It never mattered who. All that mattered now was at 6 am. The alarm blared again, and I debated between returning to bed or finishing myself off manually and soiling my sheets.

I rolled over with a moan, firm buttocks bracing me as I glided my little fist between my delicate thighs and gave a soft squeeze. A smile flexed away my early morning grimace as the flesh I fondled began to pulse in reaction. “Ah!” I folded my legs and clamped them shut. My heart throbbed as I stroked myself—maybe Monday wasn’t going to be so horrible after all.

“SUNNY! IT’S TIME FOR SCHOOL!” I heard Manfred, my family executor and former legal guardian. As one might assume, hearing him call my name completely wilted my pleasure. “SCHOOL, SUNNY!”

“I hate Mondays,” I growled under my breath as I buried my face in my long blonde hair.

I’m probably getting ahead of myself—I’ll start over while I get ready for school. My name is Sunny Skye—isn’t that horrible? I’m neither a professional wrestling valet nor a burlesque dancer. It also makes me seem perkier than I am, even if I was the cheer team captain at my high school. Wait a minute—scratch what I said before. My name is PERFECT.

Speaking of perfect, so is my future. The next few weeks are jam-packed. I’m a high school senior, and finals are over. Next Saturday, I’ll graduate from Pom Tree Catholic Academy. A few weeks later, I’ll receive my inheritance and become the majority owner of Cloudy Skyes Candy Company, one of Ontario’s oldest confectioneries.

I paced through the Skye mansion’s foyer that morning and had to cover my face as those horrid ultraviolet rays pierced through the sunlit glass ceiling. Despite the alliteration, I hated my first name, especially on Monday. Sweat beaded on my brow instantly as the sun scorched my delicate scalp. At a sultry 75°F/25 °C, it was hot for Toronto. Through this terrible inconvenience, I stepped lightly. My school uniform’s pleated skirt made audible swishing sounds as I hurried to my family limo.

“Thank you, Victor,” I murmured as our family driver held the door ajar for me. I slid into the backseat and fanned my thighs. An uneasy sigh drained from my lungs. The morning’s severe lack of privacy had taken its toll. I delicately laid my hand over the controls on the door until the tinted window between driver and passenger whirred up and closed.

I knew Victor wouldn’t take it personally. That’s why I love him. I slung down my bag and spread my legs on the spacious floor. The car slowly rolled from the driveway past the decadent estates of our neighbors. They were philanthropists, politicians, and industry pillars—the tangible representation of Canada’s elite. It would all be my destiny—very soon. I was to be a pillar of the community, rigid and firm. Another uneasy sigh rattled my tiny frame. Truthfully, sometimes, I thought it would be too much to bear alone.

I guess that’s why my parents added Sunny’s Sunset Clause to their will. It was a failsafe in case I was ever orphaned, like I was. Wait--I haven’t mentioned that yet? God, this is Monday. Don’t worry; I’ll get to that later.

The clanking and booming outside the window jerked me from my parental daydream. Construction and traffic horns told me we had made it to the city. We traveled this route daily, 30 arduous minutes out of our way. It was usually worth it, especially today.

Her frumpy curves caught my eye as the car edged the curb. She awkwardly stumbled inside, carefully keeping her thick legs pressed together when her uniform skirt made its usual ride up her ass. I giggled as she pulled the fabric back down again. I don’t know why she always insists on being so modest.

“Good morning, Miss Skye.” Chirped Miss Cassidy Black as she settled her ample body next to me on the plush seat. My most trusted assistant and confidant pushed her dark-rimmed glasses back on her pale, cheerful face. “Did you have a good weekend?” She swung her backpack to the floor before slamming the car door.

“Good weekend,” I confirmed as I unbuckled my skirt. “Bad Monday.” I crept my dress down around my shapely hips. “I couldn’t find time to let off some steam this morning.” A chill from the car’s AC raced down my bare legs as I exposed my blonde pubes to the brisk air.

Cassidy’s chubby face glowed a vivid, bright red as she nodded with straight, flushed lips. Her fingers were about to buckle the seatbelt before she let the strap retract. She knew she wouldn’t need any restraints other than me. “I was anticipating such a morning for you, Miss Skye.” Cassiday rose to her knees and hovered over me as her voice dropped to a husky octave. “How would you like me today?”

I flashed a wide grin for the first time that day. “On your side, if you don’t mind.” My heart pounded. I was a candy store kid watching Miss Black recline and hike up her skirt. Sweet! Her plump loins glistened with excitement. Cassidy’s pussy always seemed so prepared, smooth, pantyless, and freshly shaven.