A Show Of Obedience

Faye steps inside expecting Doreen but finds Margot and Phil instead. They smile too wide. "Doreen’s running an errand," Margot says, patting the couch. "Won’t be long." Faye takes the seat because turning them down feels rude, maybe dangerous. Conversation turns fast. Phil mentions how Faye answered every little suggestion at the last barbecue like she was waiting for orders. Margot leans closer and says they’d love to give those orders tonight—make her wet herself right there on their floor if that’s what it takes to watch her shake. Faye’s face burns; her thighs press together before she can stop them. The front door opens. Doreen freezes, eyes dropping to the puddle already darkening the hardwood beneath Faye’s chair. "Again?" she spits. Phil doesn’t flinch. He tells her it’s her turn to play or watch. Doreen’s anger cracks. She kicks the door shut, drops her bag, and steps into the wet spot like she owns it. Margot’s hand slides up Doreen’s skirt while Phil tells Faye to strip and kneel. From there everything blurs—hands pinning wrists, mouths biting skin, the sharp tang of piss still hanging in the air. Doreen ends up bent over the same couch arm where Faye first sat, Margot’s fist buried inside her while Phil fucks Faye’s throat until tears streak her cheeks. The girls moan, swear, come, and come again under orders they didn’t know they wanted. By the time the four of them collapse, the floor is slick with everything they let spill.