Getting In (Amanda's Trilogy) by Isabella Jones Read Free Book Online

more. Please,” Lisette says in almost a groan.
    The cat slaps across Lisette’s ample bosoms and the girl cries out, “Yes!”
    The whipping continues, but instead of feeling sick and needing to close my eyes, I watch. It’s clear Lisette is enjoying the attention, and I’m even feeling a little—no, a lot—turned on by it. I could get my rocks off this way, easy. While she’s straining against the ropes, and even moaning and crying out with some of the blows that strike her thighs, hips, and breasts, her expression is pure pleasure.
    Jennifer stops. Circles of sweat have appeared under her arms.
    “Please,” Lisette says. “You can’t stop now.” She’s squirming fiercely enough to swing back and forth quite considerably, so Jennifer again steadies her.
    “It’s time,” says Jennifer. “You’ve done well here today. You’re ready for your reward.”
    Lisette, her body flushed and sweaty from her exertions, stills. “You mean …?”
    “The final reward,” Jennifer repeats.
    “I can be with Stefan?”
    A terrible silence falls over the room. A muscle in Jennifer’s jaw twitches.
    Somehow I think Lisette has veered too far from the script.

CHAPTER EIGHT

    Jennifer’s fury is palpable as she lowers Lisette enough so her feet can reach the floor. The room feels ten degrees colder, and no one says a word as she stabs several other buttons on the panel, allowing the rope holding the girl’s hands together to slacken. Then Jennifer roughly unties the black blindfold around her head, and I finally can look into Lisette’s eyes: round, clear, long-lashed … and worried looking. She shakes out her arms and rolls her broad shoulders, as if she’s just medaled in the 400-meter backstroke, then crosses her arms across her reddened breasts, looks back at me, and smiles shyly.
    I smile back. It’s more of a grimace than anything.
    A door at the back of the room opens. I’m still not used to these doors that seem to melt into the walls, so the sudden entrance of a tall, beautiful black man, completely nude, startles me. His muscles shine and undulate in the light of the room; he walks over to us, proudly, swiftly, as if he’s strutting in Tom Ford for Gucci on a Paris runway, completely at ease with his nudity and the fact that there’s a naked girl restrained in front of him and two fully dressed women watching her.
    I can see the disappointment on Lisette’s face when he enters, and even though nothing about this whole operation is anywhere near normal, I want to walk over, shake her, and say, “What the fuck, girl? Have you looked at this guy?” I’ve seen a picture of Stefan Angstrom, the guy Lisette presumably wants as her “reward,” and unless he’s Superman or something, I don’t see any comparison. The black man in the room with us is in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. His exquisite bone structure gives him the appearance of a bronzed Adonis, while his physique is all angles, tautness, and muscle highlighted by his smooth, ebony skin.
    And then there’s this other feature he’s got.
    The biggest cock I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s almost fully aroused, and that thing is huge. No wonder Lisette’s looking a little nervous, glancing down at his penis, then back up at his face. She catches her full bottom lip with her teeth.
    Jennifer comes over to the chair next to me, sits down and says wearily, “She’s all yours, Tyrell. Have at her.”
    Tyrell doesn’t need any more urging. He’s on Lisette in an instant. “Baby,” he says, tentatively reaching out and running his hands gently up and down the sides of her body. I notice that Lisette’s got her eyes squeezed shut, as if she doesn’t want to see what’s going on. He loosens the ribbon holding her dark hair up, letting her wavy locks slide through his fingers and spread across her shoulders. “I’ve been watching you. Did you know I was watching? You handled it good. I was proud of you.”
    Lisette’s eyes blink