Good Girl (Playroom) (47 page)

“A gift for you,” I
softly say to Auggie and point at the plaque on the door. He brightly smiles and reverently touches it. Auggie gently kisses me in thanks and winks at Rob, recognizing his artistic contribution.

“W
elcome to the Playroom,” I grandly shout, with a wave of my hand I present the
Playroom
. I walk in and watch everybody’s reactions.

The gasps and intakes of breath are payment for
all of our hard work. I smile and look at Robbie’s and my creation. I wanted it to look like a high-class Bordello. The age of the house and the style of the furniture left behind inspired me. The attic of the Spook House is bigger than Malcolm’s entire home. The mansard style roof created some interesting angles to the walls. I built small partitions to create spaces rather than having one large room. A bathroom is on each end of the Playroom with the wet bar bisecting the center.

Robbie painted hedonistic murals depicting all the kinks our players possess on the several of the walls. I padded
the rest of the walls and coved them with panels of red velvet and black leather to resemble sofa backs.

I smile to myself as I walk to the wet bar. This is the biggest test of my entire life. I b
ite my lip to hold the saliva at bay that threatens to drool out the corner of my mouth.
You’re better than this, Willow. Don’t give in to temptation. You’d be no better than the hypocrite you called Devon and Essie.
I overpower my need by sheer willpower alone. Alcohol is a choice and I choose me.

I love to drink, but I love playing barkeep even more.
I put all of my energy into giving everyone else an exceptional experience. The
Playroom
is a gift to all of us. I pull a couple dozen champagne flutes from the overhead racks and pop the corks on several bottles of bubbly ambrosia. I gingerly place them on a tray for Robbie to distribute. I longingly sniff the opening of an empty bottle, enjoying the sting of alcohol in my nostrils. I quickly toss it in the recycle bin.

I remember to flick the switch on the sound system. I chose something diabol
ically arousing. It’s not music. It’s a heartbeat pounding pure bass. It speeds up causing your heartbeat to match, and then it will drop to deathly slow. Overlapping the beat is the breathing. When the beat runs fast, the breathing hitches. I tested it out on Robbie. I had to leave the room after a few minutes because he had business to attend to, as did I.

I reserve two
glasses and fill them with sparkling cider. I keep one for myself, for obvious reasons, and deliver one to Kieren, for less obvious reasons. Yes, Kieren is underage, but the reality of it is, he hates the taste of alcohol. I also believe that after all the issues with Devon, Kieren wants to avoid addictive substances at all costs.

“Friends,” Auggie clears his throat. He’s looking at his pets with the now familiar expression of
I don’t know you.
He’s beaming at us like he’s the proud parent of a kid who cured cancer.

“I’m speechless and in awe. Now I know why you wouldn’t let me in here,” Auggie chuckles. “My pets locked me out of my own attic with two padlocks. They each kept a key so I couldn’t influen
ce one of them to let me in.” Auggie turns in a circle and smiles at each of us. “Welcome to the Playroom,” he yells with pride and raises his glass.

We echo Mr. Augustus Kline
, raise our glasses in salute, and then drain their contents.

I decide that I was born to be a hostess. I love fluttering around making everyone comfortable and happy. Robbie’s been showing our guests to the
surprises we created for them. Isis is gazing at a contraption Robbie had me build. He sketched out a design and I built it. I had to have Dad help me with some of the cuts and the pulleys. I was shocked when Dad grinned at the Playroom and his expression changed to a kid wanting to play. The result of our project is a rack of torture that I will never touch again. Isis is caressing a leather strap with loving adoration and a wicked gleam in her eye.

Auggie is grandly sitting in the throne we commissioned for him. Rough cut logs
, a black leather seat and backrest create the medieval throne fit for the Beast. He’s grinning like an idiot, running his palms up and down the armrests, and rumbling the sexiest laugh I’ve ever heard. I couldn’t love the man more if I tried or the man who is making him laugh.

A Beast needs a place for his nearest and dearest. We know how much the mountai
n of a man loves chaise lounges, so we created two to flank his throne. I found one in the old
Playroom
and one in storage awaiting sale at
Revamped
. Robbie reupholstered the set to match the throne.

Malcolm and Kieren
are sitting on one, with Opal and the beauty that sucks cock like a pro, Nina, on the opposing chaise. The ladies are teasing Kieren, and the men are laughing at his mortification. Kieren keeps looking at me and flushing. No doubt our resent activities are the topic of discussion. No sex secrets among deviant friends.

I was completely ignorant to
who would need what to fulfill their deepest, darkest desires, so Robbie picked everything out. Our twenty guests spread out around the
Playroom
, chattering and laughing as they caress all the playthings.

Robbie is allowing Isis to strap him into that contraption. The expression of ecstasy on his face is so private that I quickly look away and blush.
Now that I’m not looking at Robbie, the soft alluring murmur of Isis’ voice fills my ears. Words I don’t want to hear.

I concentrate on all the Playroomers. Opal, the dog walker, is showing her traitor of a puppy the special place I built just for her. I designed this area long before Bethany betrayed me and Auggie used Opal to hurt me.

In the far corner of the attic next to the bathroom, I created a Pet area for those who like to playact as puppies. I’d asked if anyone is ever a cat, but Robbie didn’t know, either. He laughed maniacally and whispered
horsy
under his breath.

Since the attic isn’t big enough for that stable Robbie was insinuating, I built a doghouse big enough for a person to stretch out inside. The door to the house is
hidden behind it. I don’t want anyone that isn’t playing puppy to know that the doghouse turns into a cage. I don’t trust someone not to torture our pets.

A basket of toys and brushes is next to a huge pallet to sleep on. The pallet is cushiony and big enough to play on. Opal fills Bethany’s water dish a
nd I watch in fascination as Beth laps the water up with her pink tongue. Bethany slobbers all over Opal’s leg and I giggle before I can stop myself.

I feel eyes on me when I laugh. I glance at the throne and chaises- I have an audience. I wink at them and then return all of my attention to the scene playing out before me. I may not like Bethany right now, but I swell with pride because I did a really good job- Opal and Bet
h love what I provided for them.

Opal pretends to toss a ball and Beth’s eyes track its arc. Opal
shrugs and tosses the ball a few feet. The dog walker delightedly laughs when puppy shuffles after it, swaying her ass in our faces. They play fetch for a few minutes until Bethany starts to pant and keeps lapping at her bowl.

“Puppy,” Opal
calls and she trots over. “Lay on your belly, on the bed.” Opal grabs a brush and waits while Bethany gets settled. “Good puppies get brushed. Doesn’t that feel good?” Opal croons to her puppy, smirking the entire time.

Opal
draws the paddle bush through the puppy’s long blonde hair and smacks Bethany’s bare ass when it’s on the down stroke. She’s whimpering and wiggling around by the time her hair shines and her ass glows rosy pink.

Alrighty, then…

Not my thing, but a few Playroomers are edging closer. I don’t want to be involved with puppy play, especially when it involves Bethany. I’m the bigger person, but not that damned big. I also don’t want to be involved with the sadistic shit Isis is doing to Robbie.

I look around for Kieren.
After all, he was supposed to be my playmate. What I find isn’t Kieren, but Auggie. I cock my head and watch- feeling completely indifferent.

Nina, the cocksucktress
, is doing what she does best. She’s on her knees servicing our reigning king. Auggie sits in this throne with Nina kneeling between his thighs with the Beast shoved down Nina’s eager throat. A shiver of annoyance, anxiety, slams into me, but not nearly as powerful as the lust that shatters me.

Right then and there
, an epiphany strikes me- searing up my spine and exploding in my brain… I’m starting new. I want to date someone, someone I have no history with. I want someone that will find me enough. I’m not angry at Auggie, because right now, I could fuck anyone six ways ‘til Sunday.

Truthfully, if Devon
was before me with some greedy mouth pulling on his dick- I’d kill her, and then him. That is telling. Play is reality, reality is play. I need a mixture of both. I need someone who finds me good enough during both. I need someone who wants Willow just as she is. Until that day, I’m gonna have some fun.

Auggie ha
d warned me. He told me he would never leave the Playroom behind. Somewhere in the depths of my heart, I’d thought Auggie would realize I was irreplaceable and unique. I thought he’d marry me and we’d play
together.
It would be about
us
and whoever we drew into it. I was naïve. I was wrong… because Auggie had to okay Kieren as my playmate, yet Nina is sucking away without my consent. Cheating? No. Disrespectful? Yes.

Essie may be happy having a husband who won’t confide in her and will go to the
Playroom
for satisfaction, but I’m not. I want a partner.

Someday
, they may see me as enough, but why should I wait? I’m not sure if Auggie will ever see me as an adult, and if he does, I’m not sure I can get over him thinking I wasn’t enough- even for a fraction of a second in our long life. Auggie hadn’t thought Willow, in any incarnation, was good enough. One moment of Auggie’s doubt has made me doubt him. I just hope not forever.

My epiphany finally screams why I couldn’t fall in love with Auggie, even though I do love him
- truly love him. It wasn’t because I loved Devon, or enjoyed Kieren. It wasn’t Auggie’s play, or him touching Opal. It was that Auggie doubted me- he doubted that I was enough for him, and he made me doubt myself. Auggie may have made me want to be a better person- to strive to be the best Willow possible. But that one grain of doubt may have ruined us forever.

As Nina sucks Auggie off, his eyes never leave mine as I re
ason this out. The sadness in Auggie’s pale green eyes screams that he’s reading my mind, or maybe, he’s already come to the same conclusion- that it may already be too late…             

I may
find my way back to one of them in the future. If I do, then it was meant to be. If not, live happy, Willow!

I don’t know what the future holds for me. But who the fuck cares
? I’m only years old, and if I want to fall in love and get my heart broken a thousand times over, then it’s my prerogative. I’ll angst my way through it, and learn something new every damned time.

I’m no longer
Willow the wayward. I’m no longer just Mr. Kline’s Monster. I stand next to Auggie’s throne and put my hand on his shoulder. Auggie gives me a new look, one that professes I’m his equal and a very good girl…

I return the l
ook with one of my own. Auggie might be good enough for me in the future, but right now, what he’s offering isn’t good enough… I’ll be my own damn Good Girl, thank you very much.

~Chapter Forty-Eight~

I walk over to Kieren with a smile spread across my face. The thoughts bubbling up in my mind are depressingly freeing- hopeful. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I’ve truly gone batshit crazy.

Kieren’s blue eyes glitter in anticipation as he eagerly clasps my hand. He smiles so broadly that a dimple I’ve never seen appears in his left cheek. That damned man-laugh erupts from his chest. If I could bottle that sound, it’d be an aphrodisiac.

H
and-in-hand, I lead Kieren towards the outer-wall by the entrance. He looks at me in confusion when I lean next to the door. Yeah, it’s not very sexy of a place to play. I smirk at Kieren and he sexily laughs.

My eyes drift over the
Playroom
. I slowly pan over all the action. Auggie’s watching me with a concerned look on his face, like he just realized for the first time, that perhaps, he’s more immature than an eighteen year old girl. I smile back, signaling that we’re all good- things won’t change, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?