Forbidden Fucktoys: a Son's Reign
Copyright© 2025 by Depraved_Angel
Chapter 14
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 14 - Dane Carver, a sixteen-year-old teenage stud with a chiseled physique and an eleven-inch cock, dominates the pussies in his world with steroid-fueled lust and brutal aggression, beginning with his gorgeous but ditzy mother and extending to his mother's friends, his teachers, and girls at his school.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Coercion Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction School Cheating Incest Mother Son Rough Group Sex Anal Sex Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Teacher/Student
Lacey Carver, thirty-two, swayed her hips to the pulsing bass of the club’s music, her crimson leather bra and matching thong clinging to her curves like a second skin. The private lounge at Club Elysium was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint tang of sweat. Her Double-E breast implants, still tender from surgery, jiggled with each deliberate step, drawing the gaze of her customer.
Edward Langley, a well-dressed man in his late forties, was seated on the plush velvet couch. His tailored navy suit and polished loafers screamed wealth, but his smug grin and the way he leaned back, arms spread wide, screamed asshole. Lacey’s platinum extensions cascaded over her shoulders, catching the low light as she moved closer, her five-foot-five frame radiating a practiced sensuality she’d honed under Dane’s brutal tutelage.
Edward had been polite on the main floor, all charming smiles and light touches on her arm as he’d bought her a drink and asked for a private dance. His graying hair and deep-set brown eyes gave him a distinguished air, and his compliments—calling her “stunning” and “a vision”—had made her think he’d be a big tipper.
She’d spent nearly thirty minutes laying the groundwork, giggling at his jokes, brushing her fingers along his sleeve, and sharing a tidbit about growing up in a small town to build rapport. Now, in the VIP lounge, the mask was off. Edward’s tone had shifted, his words laced with a cutting edge as he tried to “neg” her, a pickup artist tactic she recognized from late-night internet dives into men’s forums.
“Your tits are impressive, sweetheart, but let’s be real—those are fake as hell, aren’t they?” Edward said, his voice dripping with condescension as he sipped his whiskey. He leaned forward, his eyes raking over her implants with a sneer. “I bet you got those to cover up some small-town insecurities, huh? What’s it like, going from Podunk nowhere to shaking your ass for cash?”
Lacey’s smile tightened, her wide blue eyes narrowing slightly as she straddled the armrest of the couch, keeping her distance for now. She’d told him about her small-town roots as an icebreaker, a way to seem relatable, but he’d twisted it into a weapon. Her annoyance simmered, a slow burn in her chest. She’d dealt with creeps before, but Edward’s deliberate cruelty grated. Still, she kept her voice sweet, her ditzy charm intact. “Oh, sugar, you’re so observant,” she purred, tossing her hair. “But I like to think I’ve upgraded my life a little. Don’t you like the view?”
Edward chuckled, a low, mocking sound, and reached for his wallet, making a show of flipping it open. A thick stack of bills—hundreds, by the look of it—peeked out, his fingers lingering on the cash before he pulled out a single twenty and tossed it onto the table between them. “Let’s see if you’re worth more than that,” he said, leaning back again. “Show me something special, small-town girl. I don’t pay for basic.”
Lacey’s jaw clenched, her fingers twitching with the urge to snatch the twenty and shove it back in his face. A single twenty for a private dance? She’d already spent half an hour buttering him up, and now he was playing stingy, dangling his wealth like a carrot while offering scraps. Her eyes flicked to the wallet, still open on his lap, the cash taunting her.
He was testing her, trying to see how much he could get for free. Her annoyance flared hotter, her mind racing. She’d put in too much time to walk away empty-handed, but she was seconds from telling him to fuck off and storming out. The thought of Dane’s reaction—his slap, his taunts about her failing to please—kept her rooted, her body still moving to the music.
She forced a giggle, sliding closer, her thighs brushing the edge of the couch. “Oh, you’re a tough one, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice light despite the anger coiling in her gut. “I bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want.” She leaned forward, her implants nearly spilling from her bra, and trailed a finger down his tie, her touch feather-light. Inside, she seethed. This prick thought he could play her, but she’d been molded by Dane’s cruelty, trained to turn pain into power. An idea sparked, a memory of Candy from Alpha Dogs, the stripper who’d spun every insult into a seduction, wrapping men around her finger until they begged. Lacey’s lips curved into a wicked smile. If Edward wanted to play games, she’d play dirtier.
Channeling Candy’s sultry confidence, Lacey shifted her approach, her annoyance morphing into a calculated performance. She slid onto his lap, her ass grazing his thighs, and pressed her chest close, her implants brushing his suit jacket. “You know, Edward,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear, “I kinda like a man who’s hard to please. Makes it more fun when I do please him.” She rolled her hips, a slow, deliberate grind, and felt his cock twitch beneath his slacks, already half-hard. His smug grin faltered, his eyes darkening with lust.
“Still fake,” he muttered, trying to regain control, but his voice was tighter now, less assured. He reached for his wallet again, flashing the stack of bills before pulling out another twenty and tucking it into her G-string with a patronizing pat. “You’re gonna have to work harder than that, sweetheart.”
Lacey’s smile didn’t waver, but her mind screamed cheap bastard. Two twenties for a lapdance in the VIP lounge? She’d seen girls on the main floor pull hundreds for less. Her annoyance threatened to break through, but she leaned deeper into Candy’s playbook, her movements growing bolder.
She stood, turning to face away from him, and bent at the waist, her ass inches from his face as she swayed to the beat. “Oh, I can work real hard,” she purred, glancing over her shoulder with a coy wink. She dropped low, her thighs spreading as she arched her back, giving him a full view of her thong-clad pussy. His breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides, and she knew she had him.
Sliding back onto his lap, Lacey ground her ass against his crotch, feeling his cock harden fully, straining against the fabric of his slacks. She let out a soft moan, fake but convincing, and tossed her hair, her implants bouncing with each roll of her hips. “God, Edward, you’re getting me so hot,” she lied, her voice dripping with lust. “I bet you’re huge under there. I’m dying to find out.” She pressed harder, her ass circling, and felt him groan, his hands gripping the couch. His wallet lay forgotten on the couch, the cash still taunting her, but she was in control now, turning his stinginess into her game.
Edward’s composure cracked, his smugness giving way to raw need. “Fuck, you’re good,” he muttered, his hands moving to her hips.
She swatted them away with a playful giggle, keeping him on edge. “Not yet, naughty boy,” she teased, standing again to peel off her bra, letting it dangle from her finger before tossing it aside. Her Double-E implants stood proud, the faint scars from surgery barely visible in the dim light. She cupped them, squeezing gently, and moaned, “You don’t like these, huh? Too bad, ‘cause I love showing them off.” She straddled him again, her bare tits brushing his chest, and ground harder, feeling his cock throb.
“All right, all right,” Edward said, his voice hoarse, reaching for his wallet. He pulled out a fifty this time, tucking it into her thong with shaky fingers. “That’s more like it, right?” His attempt to sound in control was pathetic, his eyes glued to her tits, his hips bucking slightly under her.
Lacey’s annoyance lingered—she’d expected hundreds, not this piecemeal bullshit—but she saw the opportunity. He was horny, desperate, and she could push him further. “Oh, baby, you’re spoiling me,” she cooed, her voice mocking as she leaned close, her lips brushing his ear. “But you know what I really want?”
She slid a hand down his chest, stopping just above his belt, and whispered, “I want to fuck you so bad, Edward. I bet you’d ruin me with that cock.” She ground her pussy against his erection, feeling it pulse, and added, “But a girl like me doesn’t come cheap. Fifteen hundred, and I’m yours. My tight little pussy, all for you.”
Edward froze, his eyes widening, but his cock betrayed him, twitching under her. “Fifteen hundred?” he stammered, his voice a mix of shock and lust. “That’s ... that’s a lot, sweetheart.” He opened his wallet again, flashing the cash—easily thousands in there—but hesitated, his stinginess warring with his arousal.
Lacey pouted, her lips brushing his jaw as she ground harder, her thong barely containing her pussy as it slid against his slacks. “Don’t you want me, Edward?” she whined, her voice dripping with fake desperation. “I’m so wet thinking about you fucking me. Don’t make me beg.” She gave him another free lapdance, her ass bouncing, her tits swaying, and felt him shudder, his hands gripping her thighs. She leaned back, arching to show off her implants, and moaned, “I’ll do anything for you, baby. Just say yes.”
His resolve crumbled, his breathing ragged. “Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling out a stack of bills. He counted out fifteen hundred, his hands trembling, and shoved it into her hands. “You better be worth it,” he growled, but his eyes were wild with need, his cock straining so hard she thought it might rip his pants.
Lacey grinned wickedly, tucking the cash into her G-string, the bills bulging against her hip. “Oh, you’re gonna love this,” she purred, straddling him again. She ground her ass hard against his erection, circling her hips with relentless pressure, her thong brushing his slacks as she leaned close, her tits in his face. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” she moaned, her voice a seductive lie. She felt his cock pulse, his hips bucking, and knew he was close.
“Wait, wait,” Edward gasped, his hands grabbing her hips, panic in his voice. “Don’t—don’t make me cum yet. I want to fuck you first!” His face was flushed, his smugness gone, replaced by desperate need.
Lacey ignored him, her grin widening as she ground harder, her ass slamming against his crotch. “Oh, baby, you feel so good,” she moaned, her voice mocking now, her hips relentless. She felt his cock throb, his body tensing, and then he shuddered beneath her, a low groan escaping his lips. His slacks darkened, a wet stain spreading as he came, his cum soaking through the fabric. Lacey kept grinding, drawing out his orgasm, her pussy tingling with triumph.
She stood, adjusting her thong, the fifteen hundred secure against her skin. “Thanks for the generous tip, sugar,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she grabbed her bra and slipped it back on. Edward stared at her, his face a mix of shock and rage, his pants ruined, his wallet lighter.
“You fucking bitch,” he sputtered, scrambling to his feet, his hands shaking. “You tricked me! I’m reporting you to the management!”
Lacey laughed, a sharp, confident sound, her hips swaying as she headed for the door. “Go ahead, Edward,” she called over her shoulder. “Tell them you paid me fifteen hundred to fuck in the VIP lounge. You know that’s illegal, right? Good luck explaining that to the cops.” She paused, tossing her hair, and added, “Maybe next time, don’t be such a cheap asshole.”
Edward’s mouth opened, then closed, his face purple with fury but powerless. Lacey strutted out, her heels clicking on the floor, her body buzzing with control. She’d turned his game against him, milked him for every cent, and left him humiliated. Her pussy was wet, not from Edward, but from the power she’d wielded, a power Dane had taught her to embrace. As she rejoined the main floor, her eyes scanned for Dane, knowing he’d be proud of her hustle, her submission to him only deepening with each victory like this.
The club pulsed around her, men leering, dancers swaying, and Lacey felt alive, her new life as Diamond a perfect fit. She tucked the cash deeper into her G-string, her mind already on the next dance, the next conquest, her body and soul bound to Dane’s dominance but thriving in her own cruel game.
Lacey Carver strutted out of the VIP lounge, her crimson leather bra and thong clinging to her sweat-slicked skin, the fifteen hundred dollars from Edward Langley’s wallet tucked securely into her G-string. Her platinum extensions swayed with each click of her six-inch stilettos, her Double-E implants bouncing slightly, still tender but a proud symbol of her transformation into Diamond, the stripper Dane had shaped her to be. The main floor of Club Elysium pulsed with neon lights and thumping bass, men leering from tables as dancers twirled around poles. Lacey’s body buzzed with triumph as her wide blue eyes scanned the crowd for Dane, her heart pounding with the need to share her success with her sixteen-year-old stud of a son.
It was late, well past midnight, and her shift was winding down. Her feet ached in her heels, her thighs sore from hours of dancing, but the thrill of her two-grand haul for the night kept her energized. She headed toward the dressing room, weaving through the crowd, ignoring the catcalls and drunken propositions. The air was thick with perfume, alcohol, and the musky scent of arousal, a familiar haze that fueled her new life. In the cramped dressing room, lined with mirrors and littered with makeup and costumes, she slipped out of her crimson outfit, wincing as the leather peeled from her sweaty skin. Her implants ached under their new weight, but she admired them in the mirror, cupping them gently, a smile curling her full lips. Dane would be proud.
She changed into a tight black minidress, the fabric hugging her curves like a lover, and stuffed her tips—crisp hundreds and crumpled twenties—into a small clutch. The dressing room buzzed with other dancers, their chatter a mix of gossip and complaints about cheap customers. Lacey ignored them, her mind on Dane, on the way his green eyes would light up when she told him about Edward. She counted her tips, her fingers trembling with excitement as the total hit two thousand after tipping out one hundred fifty to Victor, the club manager. Her pussy clenched, a sharp pulse of arousal at the thought of Dane’s approval, his rough hands claiming her as his “good slut.” She adjusted her dress, fluffed her platinum hair, and headed back to the main floor, her heels clicking with purpose.
The club was still alive, though the crowd had thinned, the late hour leaving only the most dedicated—or desperate—patrons. Lacey’s eyes locked onto Dane immediately, his towering six-foot-three frame impossible to miss. He lounged at a table near the stage, his muscular arms spread across the back of a booth, his dark brown hair cropped short, his tight black shirt straining over his steroid-pumped chest. A stripper named Blaze was in his lap, a Korean girl in her late twenties with dyed-blonde hair and fake C-cup tits spilling from a silver bikini top. Her slender frame writhed against him, her giggles high-pitched as Dane’s hands roamed her body, casually groping her tits and squeezing her ass. Blaze’s dark eyes sparkled with smitten adoration, her fingers tracing Dane’s jaw as she leaned close, whispering something that made him smirk.
Lacey’s stomach twisted, a sharp stab of jealousy piercing her chest. Blaze was gorgeous, her olive skin glowing under the neon lights, her movements confident as she pressed her tits against Dane’s chest. Lacey’s fingers tightened around her clutch, her nails digging into her palm. She’d seen Dane with other women—Sapphire, Tiffany, Gina—but each time stung, a reminder that she was just one of his conquests, even if he called her his “number one slut.” Her heart pounded, humiliation burning in her throat as she stood frozen, watching Dane flirt with Blaze, his hands possessive, his smirk infuriatingly smug. She wanted to stride over, to claim him, but his dominance held her in place, her body trained to wait for his command.
Dane’s eyes flicked to Blaze’s cleavage, his fingers teasing the edge of her bikini top. “Damn, girl, these tits are something else,” he said, his voice low and teasing, loud enough for Lacey to hear over the music. “You get these done just to drive guys like me crazy?”
Blaze giggled, arching her back to push her chest closer to his face. “Maybe I did, big guy,” she purred, her voice sultry, her fingers trailing down his arm. “You like ‘em? I bet you could do all kinds of things with these.” She shifted in his lap, grinding her ass against his crotch, her silver bikini bottom catching the light.
Dane’s hand slid to her ass, squeezing hard, his smirk widening. “Oh, I got ideas,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Bet you’d look real good bent over, taking my cock. You ever had one this big?” He shifted his hips, letting her feel the bulge of his eleven-inch cock, and Blaze’s eyes widened, her giggle turning nervous but excited.
“You’re so bad,” she teased, swatting his chest playfully, her fingers lingering on his pecs. “I bet you say that to all the girls. But I’m special, right?” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, her blonde hair falling over his shoulder. “I could show you something none of these other bitches can.”
Lacey’s face burned, her jealousy flaring hotter with every word. Blaze’s confidence, her easy flirtation with Dane, made her feel small, insignificant. She clutched her purse tighter, her heels rooted to the floor, her body trembling with a mix of anger and arousal. Dane’s eyes flicked to her briefly, a glint of amusement in them, as if he knew exactly how much this was killing her. He turned back to Blaze, his hand sliding up her thigh. “Special, huh?” he said, his voice mocking. “Prove it, sweetheart. What’s a girl like you got that I ain’t already had?”
Blaze pouted, her lips glossy and full, and leaned in, her tits brushing his chest. “Oh, I got tricks you ain’t seen,” she whispered, loud enough for Lacey to hear. “I could ride you so good you’d forget every other slut in this place.” She ground her hips harder, her ass circling in his lap, and Dane groaned softly, his hand tightening on her thigh.
“Is that so?” Dane said, his smirk cruel now, his eyes flicking to Lacey again, holding her gaze for a moment before returning to Blaze. “You talk a big game, but I’m a hard man to please. You think you can keep up with me?” His fingers slipped under her bikini bottom, grazing her skin, and Blaze gasped, her body arching toward him.
“I can handle anything you throw at me,” Blaze shot back, her voice confident despite the flush in her cheeks. “You’re not the only one with stamina, big boy. I could go all night.” She tossed her hair, her dyed-blonde locks catching the light, and leaned in to kiss his neck, her lips lingering as she murmured, “Just say the word, and I’m yours.”
Lacey’s humiliation peaked, her pussy clenching despite the ache in her chest. Dane’s flirting, his casual dominance over Blaze, was a knife in her gut, but it also turned her on, her body betraying her with a rush of wetness. She wanted to scream, to storm over and shove Blaze off his lap, but she knew better. Dane’s control was absolute, and her role was to wait, to submit, to be his “good slut.” Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she forced a smile, her ditzy charm a fragile mask as she took a step closer, her heels clicking loudly to announce her presence.
Dane’s head turned, his green eyes locking onto hers, his smirk softening into something possessive. “Off you go, sweetheart,” he said to Blaze, his tone final as he patted her ass. “Gotta talk to my girl,” he chuckled.
Blaze’s face fell, her smitten glow replaced by a scowl as she slid off his lap. She shot Lacey a glare, her dark eyes narrowing with venom, before strutting off toward the stage, her silver bikini catching the light. Lacey’s heart raced, a mix of triumph and relief washing over her. Dane’s attention was hers now, and she’d make sure it stayed that way.
“Hey, Big Daddy,” Lacey purred, sliding into the booth beside him, her thigh pressing against his. She leaned close, her implants brushing his arm, and tossed her hair, letting her perfume envelop him. “You’ll never believe what I just pulled off.” Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes searched his, hungry for his approval, desperate to erase the sting of watching him with Blaze.
Dane’s hand found her thigh, his fingers digging into her flesh with possessive force. “Tell me, babygirl,” he said, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “What’d my little slut do to make me proud?”
Lacey’s pussy clenched at his words, her body responding to his dominance like a trained reflex. She launched into the story of Edward Langley, her voice animated as she described the asshole’s “neg” tactics, his stingy twenties, and his smug wallet-flashing. She leaned closer, her lips brushing Dane’s ear as she recounted how she’d ground on Edward’s lap, teasing him until he was desperate, and milking him for fifteen hundred bucks. “I got him so worked up he came in his pants,” she said, giggling, her hand resting on Dane’s chest. “Then I told him to fuck off and left him there like a chump. Two grand total tonight, baby.”
Dane’s laugh was low, a rumble that sent shivers down her spine. He pulled her closer, his hand sliding up her thigh, dangerously close to her thong. “That’s my good slut,” he said, his voice thick with pride. “Turning his game around like that? Fuck, you’re learning fast.” His fingers grazed her pussy through the dress, and she gasped, her body arching toward him. “You can suck dick for cash, babygirl, as long as you’re careful. But this?” He cupped her pussy, his grip possessive. “This belongs to me. No one else gets to fuck it.”
Lacey moaned softly, her head spinning with arousal. “Only you, Big Daddy,” she whispered, her hand sliding to his crotch, feeling the massive bulge of his eleven-inch cock. The thought of being owned by him, her body his to command, made her wet, her thong already damp. She pressed herself closer, her implants squishing against his arm, and kissed his neck, her lips lingering. “I’m yours.”
Dane grinned, standing and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s get outta here,” he said, his arm around her waist as he guided her toward the exit. The club’s neon lights faded behind them, the cool night air hitting Lacey’s skin as they stepped into the parking lot.
Dane’s Porsche 911 Turbo gleamed under a streetlight, a sleek black beast funded by Gina’s submission, a symbol of his control. Lacey’s heels clicked on the asphalt, her body buzzing with anticipation, her mind replaying Dane’s praise. She was his, body and soul, and the thought made her pussy throb.
They had just reached the car when a slurred voice cut through the night. “You fucking bitch!” Edward Langley stumbled toward them, his navy suit rumpled, his face flushed with alcohol and rage. He swayed, a half-empty champagne bottle in one hand, his other pointing at Lacey. “You cheating slut! You owe me a fuck for that fifteen hundred!”
Lacey froze, her heart pounding, but Dane stepped forward, his massive frame towering over Edward. “The fuck did you just say?” Dane’s voice was low, dangerous, his green eyes narrowing to slits.
Edward, too drunk to sense the danger, kept ranting, his words slurring. “She tricked me, man! Took my money and didn’t deliver! She’s a fucking whore!”
Dane moved faster than Lacey could process. His fist connected with Edward’s face, a sickening crunch as the man’s nose shattered, blood spraying across the asphalt. Edward crumpled, sobbing, clutching his face, but Dane wasn’t done. He grabbed Edward by the collar, hauling him up and slamming him against the club’s brick wall. “You don’t talk to my bitch like that,” Dane growled, his fist smashing into Edward’s stomach. Edward gasped, doubling over, tears mixing with blood as he collapsed, whimpering.
Lacey’s breath hitched, her pussy clenching at Dane’s violence. His dominance, his protectiveness, sent a rush of arousal through her, her body trembling as she watched him tower over Edward’s broken form. Dane turned to her, his eyes blazing, and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to the wall beside Edward’s crumpled body. “Watch this, asshole,” Dane snarled, pinning Lacey against the brick, her back scraping the rough surface.
“Dane,” she gasped, but her protest melted into a moan as he hiked up her minidress, exposing her thong.
His hands were rough, tearing the fabric aside, his fingers finding her soaked pussy. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. He unzipped his jeans, his eleven-inch cock springing free, and lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.
Edward sobbed on the ground, his eyes wide as Dane positioned himself at Lacey’s entrance. “Please,” Edward whimpered.
Dane ignored him, his gaze locked on Lacey’s. “You’re mine,” he said, and thrust into her, his massive cock stretching her pussy with a slow, deliberate stroke. Lacey cried out, her head falling back against the wall, pleasure ripping through her. Dane’s hands gripped her ass, holding her up as he fucked her, each thrust long and deep, her implants bouncing with the force.
“Oh, God, Dane,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her pussy clenched around him, her body responding to his dominance, to the public display of his ownership. Edward’s whimpers faded, drowned out by her gasps, her climax building fast.
Dane’s eyes flicked to Edward, a cruel smirk on his lips. “See how a real man fucks her?” he taunted, his cock sliding in and out of her, slow and deliberate, each stroke a claim. The onlookers’ murmurs—some shocked, some leering—only fueled her, their phones glinting as they recorded her degradation. She didn’t care. Dane’s control was her world, his praise her oxygen. Her pussy spasmed, her first orgasm crashing through her, her cry loud and shameless, her body shuddering against the wall.
Dane’s thrusts were relentless, drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling, her legs weak around him. “You love this, don’t you, babygirl?” he rasped, his voice a dark caress. “Love being my slut, right here where everyone can see.” His words hit her like a slap, igniting a fresh wave of heat in her core.
She nodded, whimpering, her nails raking his shoulders. “Yes, Big Daddy,” she gasped, her voice breaking as another climax loomed.
Edward’s sobs were barely audible now, his bloodied face pressed to the asphalt, his eyes unable to look away from the spectacle of Dane’s cock sliding in and out of her. The crowd’s phones flashed, capturing every moment, her humiliation immortalized. Her pussy clenched around Dane, her second orgasm tearing through her, her scream echoing in the night as her body convulsed. Dane didn’t stop, his thrusts slow but merciless, building her toward a third peak. “Show this fucker who you belong to,” he growled, angling his hips to hit deeper, and she screamed again, her third climax shattering her, her pussy pulsing around his cock.
Dane’s control slipped as his own release neared, his thrusts growing harder, his hands bruising her ass. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he grunted, his cock swelling inside her. With a final, brutal thrust, he came, his cum flooding her pussy, hot and thick, marking her as his. Lacey moaned, her body limp against the wall, her pussy milking every drop. Dane held her there, his cock still inside her, letting Edward see the cum dripping down her thighs as he pulled out, her thong in tatters.
He lowered her to the ground, her legs shaky, her dress barely covering her. Dane turned to Edward, still crumpled and sobbing, and spat on him. “Don’t ever come near her again,” he said, his voice cold. He grabbed Lacey’s wrist, pulling her toward the Porsche, her body still humming with aftershocks. The crowd dispersed, their whispers fading, their videos already spreading.
Lacey slid into the passenger seat, her hand instinctively reaching for Dane’s cock when he got in on the other side, stroking it through his jeans as he started the engine. “I love you, Big Daddy,” she murmured, her fingers tracing his bulge, her pussy still throbbing with his cum.
Dane grinned, his hand cupping her face, his thumb brushing her lips. “You’re my perfect slut, babygirl,” he said, and she melted, her body and soul his. The Porsche roared out of the lot, leaving Edward’s broken form behind, Lacey’s new life as Diamond cemented, her submission to Dane absolute, her heart racing for whatever he’d demand next.
Gina Bennett stirred groggily on the operating table, the sterile chill of the plastic surgeon’s office seeping into her bones. The bright overhead lights pierced her half-open eyes, and a dull, throbbing pain radiated from her chest, making her breath catch. At thirty-six, her olive skin and jet-black hair still glowed with curated sensuality, but now, as she blinked through the haze of anesthesia, her body felt foreign, her chest swollen and heavy, like it belonged to someone else. Her almond-shaped dark eyes fluttered, struggling to focus as the room came into view—an operating suite at Dr. Hargrove’s upscale Brentwood clinic, all gleaming steel and antiseptic white.