Three's a crowd

[hamish1024]

Storm tensed again as Wendy sauntered into her (restricted) field of vision, another futile tug on her frustratingly firm restraints. Just the sight of that woman was enough to set Storm off, now. The Southerner was sickeningly smug and composed as she gave Storm a condescending talking-to, and obviously enjoyed showing off her selected toy, a brutal-sounding ball gag, as she told Storm to behave.

The Scot’s nose wrinkled in anger. Her first instinct was to yell ‘go fuck yourself’ at the top of her lungs.

But, the ball gag gave her pause. It wasn’t so much fear of the toy itself; she’d been gagged before, although this variant of Wendy’s seemed especially nasty. No, her main hesitation was the helplessness – if she couldn’t power her way out of these painful ropes (which felt less likely by the second), then she would somehow need to talk her way out. Which wouldn’t really work if she was gagged into the bargain.

Storm spluttered as she fought her instincts. As Wendy threatened to dislocate her jaw, her second impulse was to scream ‘you wouldn’t dare’, but even her reptile brain realised how stupid that would sound. This was the woman who had pulverised Storm with a parade of power moves in a savage backstage ambush, and left her spine aching for days; she knew all too well that Wendy would have few limits if pushed, and she really didn’t want to find out what those were.

The squirming captive realised that her hesitation would start seeming like terror. She grit her teeth and fixed her eyes on Wendy.

“Oh, now you want to be civilised,” she spat mockingly (although notably, not at high volume. Yet).

Storm’s gaze flitted to the ballgag, but she held her nerve. She had to try and twist this to her advantage, if she could.

“Why’re you so worried about the neighbours, I wonder. I know Lyssa wouldn’t have gone down quietly. Makes me think that you’re one cry for help away from an intervention up here…” Storm pushed.

“So if we’re making deals, how about this? You tell me what the fuck is going on, and what has happened to Lyssa, and I will consider not screaming this entire fucking building down!” Storm snarled, doing her best to keep on top of the adrenaline-fuelled pounding in her chest.

[BlackAkuma]

Despite the vibe Wendy was giving off, her threat was mostly idle - mostly. She’d promised Lyssa she wouldn’t do anything permanent to the Scotswoman, and she was reasonably sure that would include dislocating her jaw. The last thing any of them wanted was an awkward trip to the ER room, as funny as that would be. For her. She doubted this damned thing could make enough pressure for that, anyway.

But she wanted to instill some fear into Storm, had to make her think it was at least on the menu. Partly to scare her, but also to legit make her pipe down. And it did seem to work - the woman grew quieter. Still rowdy, still looking like she wanted to drive daggers in Wendy’s eyes sockets, but more of a simmering heat, now. That would do.

With her a little calmer now, Wendy sat the ballgag aside and went back to her drawer as Storm threw the usual threats her way. It was cute, really. She had to know how utterly fucked she was, but she was still trying to assert some control over the situation. She’d be doing the exact same thing, if the situations were switched.

Fuck, they had been switched, and yeah, she’d done about the same thing, then.

Wendy found what she was looking for a moment later - a blindfold, soft and satin. It was one of the silly little cheap ones that came with every other piece of bondage equipment she bought, she had at least a dozen of them. She idly twirled it about her finger as she spun about and stepped back to Storm with no small amount of swagger in her hips.

”Worried about your partner? That’s cute.” She sat on the bed, ease on the edge, and reached out to run her free hand along the woman’s stomach, lazing tracing her fingers along the muscles, feeling along her curves. Really was crazy how similar their figures were. With some makeup and hair dye, they could pass for twins at the right distance.

”Lyssa and me had a good old time, don’t you worry ‘bout that. You’re about to learn exactly what we got up to.” She leaned in and licked her lips, her gaze filled with predatory intent. ”But first…”

Wendy abruptly leaned forward, brought the blindfold over Storm’s eyes, and tried to snap it on before the woman could pull away. It wasn’t wholly necessary, no, but she figured this would be a little bit more fun if Lyssa could participate without Storm immediately knowing what was going on. Gave them more to play with.

[hamish1024]

Storm’s eyes were flickering nervously around the room. Wendy’s boudoir wasn’t huge, but it was luxurious and well-appointed, showing a degree of taste that was, to Storm’s mind, no way shared with the oft-thuggish owner. It was also – unfortunately for Storm – well-stocked with all manner of toys. She wished she’d taken a keener note of the inventory when she was last in charge here; that way, she might have a better idea of what was in store for her. She doubted that a devilish ball-gag was the worst secret in this room.

With her mind running all kinds of awful scenarios, as Wendy rummaged through her drawers, it was almost a relief to see her return with a simple blindfold. Still, Storm wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect, and the Scotswoman seethed as she lay spreadeagled on the bed, forced to listen to Wendy’s teasing drawl as she twirled the blindfold in her fingers.

Storm’s lips were pursed into a furious snarl. She’d come here, itching for a fight, but now her built-up anger had nowhere to go. It was excruciating having Wendy lord it over her like this. She almost wished for the punishment to start… she was already braced for pain, it was the anticipation that was killing her.

“Of course I’m worried about my partner, that’s why I fucking came here,” she hissed in squirming exasperation. “Tearing your head off would just have been a nice bonus.” Storm sighed, sinking back into the bed, as she realised her struggles against her restraints were earning her nothing but rope burn.

Still, she twitched again as Wendy ran her fingers along Storm’s exposed midriff, really rubbing in how helpless she was. “God, I should have put you through a lot more fucking torture when I had the chance…” she snarled, half-angry and half-rueful.

“Ugh…” she moaned bitterly as Wendy leant down and slipped the blindfold over her eyes, making her world dark. It wasn’t the sleekest of fabrics, and there was a slight cheap scratchiness to it. It barely mattered – her vision was gone, and a quick shake of her head confirmed she had no way of taking it off. Frustrating.

Now she felt even more helpless. With her eyesight gone, her other senses automatically amped up, and she felt her skin tingle with heightened sensitivity.

Trying to overcome the looming sense of dread, Storm let out a long, controlled breath. She had precious few cards to play now, but she had to at least try.

“Last chance,” she attempted to say with some firmness. “Just stop now, and tell me where Lyssa is, and maybe we can call some kind of truce, before I start yelling for help and bring your neighbours in here, huh?”

[BlackAkuma]

It was tempting to just lay into Storm. Start laying into her like crazy. Facesits and breast smothers, squeeze her tits, whip her until the skin turns red. There were so many options open to her here, so many ways this could’ve played out, and with Lyssa backing her up, the possibilities were nearly limitless.

And she would do that - all of that - but being a session wrestler taught Wendy the value of patience. If you went 100% from the beginning of a session, you risked wearing your client out, making things boring and predictable. It was always best to hold back, just a little. Make the moments last. Build up the suspense. It made everything more real, more electric.

She knew exactly what Storm was feeling right now, because she’d felt the same damn thing when Lyssa and her came in and worked her over. Being so close to someone you wanted to beat the shit out of, but being held back by the goddamn rope…

”Oh, I think you put me through just the right amount.” She snickered as the woman wished for their positions to be reversed. But that wasn’t going to happen - in fact, it was about to get worse. Or better, from Wendy’s perspective.

After the blindfold went on, Wendy gave Storm a playful slap as she tried to shake the damned thing off - nice try, but she could say from experience that she wouldn’t get it off that way. When the Scot threatened to make more noise, trying her best to use the only card she had to play, she sighed and stepped back. ”All right, fine. You want to know where Lyssa is? I’ll get her for you. One sec.”

Wendy stepped back, then moved into Lyssa’s view and motioned for the smaller woman to come in and move along the left side of the bed, while she strolled along the right. She brought her nails to the woman’s thigh and let them lightly scratch along her body, tracing a path along her hips, her stomach, her chest, all the way up to her neck.

Once there, Wendy leaned down and brought her lips beside Storm’s ear, speaking right into it, letting her hot breath blow across the woman’s skin. ”Lyssa and me had a real good time. Didn’t we, hun?”

[hamish1024]

Storm winced as Wendy slapped her face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but the blindfold had stopped her from bracing for it, emphasising that everything would be taking her unawares, now that her world was dark. She ran her tongue over her teeth and said nothing, pouting even more than usual as Wendy enjoyed her gloating. Though, her going to fetch Lyssa gave her pause. Storm had visions of her blue-haired partner being trussed up and gagged, or something suitably disabling, but since she’d been blindfolded, she still had no idea how Lyssa was being held captive, even when she heard movement in the room.

Lyssa, for her own part, met Wendy’s eyes with a smirk and nodded along, ready to play a part in any game the Southerner had planned. She licked her lips with relish as she watched Wendy trace a line with her nails along the length of Storm’s body. The bound brunette jumped at the touch, and squirmed with frustration as she was toyed with. With the sensory deprivation, Storm’s skin was tingling, and the slow, teasing touch brought home just how helpless she was. Poor Storm felt like a slab of meat on the butcher’s table, ready to be worked. As Wendy stooped and purred heavily into her ear, practically salivating over the ‘good time’ she had had with Lyssa, the clearly tense Storm gave out a little sigh, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

Lyssa, for her part, had been drinking in the scene, but like any quick-witted improv artist, she was ready to step in on Wendy’s prompt. The bluenette wasn’t sure if Wendy wanted to give the game away, just yet, so the petite girl savvily stayed within the fiction, as Wendy asked her to chime in.

“Hmph… some fucking rescue this is, Storm…” she needled, managing to affect a sullen tone whilst her features beamed with glee.

“You…” Storm spluttered at hearing her partner. Ostensibly this was good news, at least Lyssa wasn’t comatose or mad with pain or buried in a crate somewhere. She didn’t immediately sound like she’d been brutalised too badly; Storm supposed that counted as a blessing. She was almost pleased that Lyssa had the spirit to start with sarcasm, but Storm wouldn’t show it. “You ungrateful bitch!” she shot back.

“I’d behave yourself, Storm,” Lyssa continued, managing to inject some wariness into her tone, despite her urge to giggle at the prank. “Take it from me… I’ve seen it first-hand… Wendy’s been playing domme all day and she is not in a merciful mood.” Lyssa was a veteran liar and she knew the secret to faking sincerity – everything she was saying was technically true, managing to paint herself as a victim when she was nothing of the sort.

Storm gave a despairing little sigh, frustrated at how badly she had fucked this up. It sounded like Lyssa had been bearing the brunt of Wendy’s sadism for a while. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with us??” the blindfolded girl moaned, a ruefully rhetorical question for her captor.

[BlackAkuma]

If Wendy were a little less of a jaded bitch, she might appreciate the way Storm came rushing in like her namesake, so full of bluster, all ready to save her partner, her best - and only, probably - friend. She had to know this was a trap, but she came anyway, uncaring of the danger she was putting herself in. She was a true friend, willing to walk through the gates of hell for those she cared about. Truly inspiring.

And stupid.

Unfortunately for Storm, Wendy was, by her own admission, a terribly jaded bitch, and she was getting a supreme charge out of turning this woman’s good intentions. What she waited for, more than anything, was the moment when the Scot realized this was all a setup, and that this was two on one. So far, it seemed like she hadn't cottoned onto it, yet. But she would.

Lyssa seemed to be getting a charge out of it, too, using Storm’s blindness to keep her in the figurative dark about the whole situation. Wendy’s acting skills were put to the test as she strung her partner along, putting her in a sheer state of panic. This was one of the reasons she loved playing with blindfolds - letting people fill in the blanks always made the experience better, more electric. They tend to drift to extremes, imagine you as sexier, make their situation crazier than it really was. Imagination enhancing reality.

Now, though, she was curious to see just how long they could keep this charade up before the penny dropped. How well did Storm know Lyssa’s body?

”Honestly?” She shrugged at Storm’s question, even though the woman couldn't see her. “You’re both hot. I got a thing for fucking with hot people, I guess. And speaking of, I think it’s time we put that mouth of yours to good use.”

Wendy got Lyssa’s attention, pointing to her ass and then to Storm’s face. Couldn't make her intentions much clearer than that, she figured. ”Take a deep breath, bitch. You know what’s coming…”

[hamish1024]

“Pfft,” Storm spat derisively as Wendy defended her actions as casually ‘fucking with hot people’. The brunette didn’t really self-identify as ‘hot’, although not through any lack of confidence; in a league full of supermodels and preening wannabe celebrities, it was a point of pride for the down-to-earth Scot that she didn’t give all that much of a damn about her appearance. Despite her helplessness, she made her scorn for Wendy’s excuses apparent.

The defiance from the bound girl was short-lived. When her tormentor told her to take a deep breath, Storm knew exactly what was coming. Her stomach tensed in dread, and her hard scowl faltered. Of course Wendy was going to facesit her; the big bitch loved to dominate through smothers, as Storm knew all too well. When she’d woken up strapped to Wendy’s bed, there’d never been much doubt that a face full of ass was in her future, but still, being outright told this brought it into unpleasant focus.

“Aww, god…” Storm muttered unhappily, squirming in her restraints, writhing on the bed as if there was any escape from this. Again, the blindfold made it so much worse – despite being warned to hold her breath, Storm could hardly brace for a threat she couldn’t see. The hapless stooge tensed, heart pounding, imagining Wendy’s voluptuous ass hanging over her as a humiliating sword of Damocles.

Lyssa, meanwhile, was visibly brimming with excitement. When Wendy motioned for her to take the lead, her eyes lit up with wicked glee, and she had to bite her lip to supress a cackle as she nodded her eager agreement. Oh, challenge accepted, I can SO facesit as well as you can, she thought to herself.

With exaggerated, heavy movements (in a slightly unflattering parody of Wendy), Lyssa clambered up onto the bed, straddling Storm’s bound body and facing her feet. Kneeling atop her long-suffering partner, Lyssa turned and met Wendy’s gaze with a smile, letting her know she had zero qualms about dishing out this kind of punishment.

Licking her lips, Lyssa jammed her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and hauled them down her thighs, revealing her creamy round ass, clad only in an electric blue thong. Sure, she had pulled these kind of mischeivous moves throughout the day’s domination sessions, but she still thought Wendy would appreciate the gesture. Even if Storm would not.

Lyssa may have only been a middleweight wrestler, but she was no slouch in the booty department; she had a firm, thick rear, and wasn’t shy about using it. She playfully massaged her derriere, spreading her cheeks a little as she did so – before finally slamming her backside down onto her oblivious victim’s face, heavily dropping into a reverse facesit. Lyssa was going for a show of force here, applying rough tactics to make it seem like the bigger woman the one responsible.

“Ggmmphhhhh!!” poor Storm gave a muffled cry from beneath the thong-clad ass, jolting in shock and dismay as her blindfolded face was buried. The brunette’s fingers flailed helplessly as she shook at her restraints, but her position was a hopeless one. Having her nose wedged firmly up against the thong of her tormentor was bad enough, but the tight bindings, and the knowledge that there was literally nothing she could do about it, made it all the more excruciating for the proud Storm to bear.

Lyssa, meanwhile, was loving the excuse she had been given to go wild with her dominant side. Locking eyes with Wendy, she impishly held out her tongue, and wiggled her hips from side to side, giving Storm a thorough face-scrubbing and working her nose deeper into her buttcheeks. It was probably just was well that the domme girls had satisfied themselves beforehand, otherwise Lyssa might have been tempted to get more sensual with her grinding. As it was, she was content to focus on putting on a show for Wendy, and concentrate on dishing out a heavy smothering. As a facesitter, Lyssa was both experienced, and cruel – she knew that the sat-upon girl could go well over a minute without air, before you had to even start worrying about adverse effects. And Lyssa was not a worrier. She knew Storm was a tough cookie, and that familiarity pushed her to keep the firm, grinding smother applied even longer than she might otherwise have done.

In short, Storm had not escaped lightly here. The facesit had been harsh, gruelling, and prolonged. As the seconds slowly ticked by, her squashed face became hotter and sweatier, and her lungs tingled and burned with lack of oxygen. Her protests and struggles against this cruel treatment began to slow, although not for lack of anger.

Despite her callousness, Lyssa knew better than to knock her plaything out – especially so early in proceedings. When she sensed that Storm was getting genuinely weak, she finally hoisted up her rear, and allowed the brunette to breathe.

“Aghhhh…. God… ahhh… ahhh…..” Storm gasped in frenzied relief, glad to be free of the facesit. Her blindfold was still stuck in place, and now sweaty and unpleasant; the bound girl instinctively tried to wipe her flustered face, only to sigh in frustration when she remembered she could not.

She lay panting on the bed for a few moments, trying to collect herself as her swirling brain straightened itself out. As much as she hated to dwell on the humiliating ordeal she’d just been through, she found herself unable to stop analysing the exact nature of the ass that had just been planted on her face.

“That…. That wasn’t Wendy, was it?” she ventured, with some trepidation. She wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to know the answer, since the implications were troubling.

Above, Lyssa was actively biting the knuckle of her index finger to stop herself from laughing out loud.

[BlackAkuma]

Believe it or not, Wendy never watched her videos. At least, no more than she had to for editing them, obviously. She would put the clips together, look over the tedious details and make it perfect, but she never just sat down and watched herself. Damn sure not for the purposes of getting off. There was just something unspeakably weird about getting pleasure through seeing a scene of yourself. She couldn't put it into words, and she damn sure didn’t want to try.

So, this - sitting back and watching as someone else dominated someone, not participating, was something of a new experience for her. And she was kind of liking it.

She looked on, watching as Storm futilely struggled in those bonds, knowing - or thinking she knew - what was coming. The sight alone would’ve been enough to make her squirm, but then she had to deal with Lyssa slipped off and bringing that cute little ass of hers into the air. As familiar as she was getting with this woman’s body, she had to admit, a large part of the attraction was just in the way she carried herself. She had the ‘impish brat’ act down to a science.

She looked on as Lyssa took her position and prepared for the drop, and she suantered over to the woman’s face before she spoke again, not wanting to Storm any hints about the true nature of things. ”Here it comes in three, two…”

Down came the ass. While Lyssa might not have had the overall size that Storm and Wendy could boast, she made up for it in a myriad of other ways. She was energetic, bouncing and swinging and making Storm work for what few breaths she could steal. She was practiced, knowing the right way to grind, how to hold out for the best moments, making sure Storm stayed lucid but never too lucid.

More than anything, though, she was cruel. Crueler than Wendy would’ve expected her to be when they first met and Lyssa was screaming at her through a phone, trying to make the Backstage Bully stop doing the very thing she was doing.

Life was strange, huh?

It made for a wonderful show, too, and while Wendy was suitably satisfied tonight, she couldn't resist having a quick taste after Lyssa finally lifted up and let her partner breathe. She leaned in, planted her lips on Lyssa’s, and enjoyed a smoldering kiss, enjoying the Brit’s taste as Storm finally began to put the pieces together.

After Storm asked the obvious question, Wendy didn’t answer right away. Instead, she kneeled by the bedside, leaned forward, and spoke with her lips close to the Scot’s ear, blowing a blast of hot breath into them.

”I gotta ask…what gave it away?” She lapped at Storm’s earlobe with a teasing lick. ”Don’t tell me it was just the size. Or are you just that use to having your face against those cheeks?”

[hamish1024]

Spreadeagled on the bed, the blindfolded Storm was flustered, and tense. One of the many, many frustrating things about taking a reverse facesit smother was that it didn’t matter how tough you were – it was always going to be gruelling and degrading, and unlike some other aspects of wrestling, you couldn’t really build up a tolerance to it. It sucked, every single time.

Meanwhile, Lyssa was quietly beaming at the sensual kiss that Wendy had bestowed on her. It wasn’t like she needed the white-haired woman’s approval, Lyssa told herself, but it was nice to know that they were on the same page. Their dual-domme partnership felt promising.

Still oblivious to her surroundings, Storm twitched fearfully as Wendy leaned in to lick at her ear, giving an unhappy gasp at how easily the Southerner could toy with her. The teasing words gave her pause.

What gave it away? Don’t tell me it was just the size. Or are you just that used to having your face against those cheeks?

Storm bristled at the question. She wanted to snap back at Wendy, but she realised there was a humiliating truth to the taunt. If forced to think about it, the fact was that she had been topped by Lyssa in the past, far more often than was healthy to admit. Worse, it was mostly after their rivalry had been settled, and Lyssa had embraced her role of “bratty domme girlfriend” with gusto, which Storm had tolerated for longer than she should have.

“Ugh…. Just…. No…” the mortified Storm spluttered, trailing off into silence. A silence which Lyssa had no qualms about butting into.

“Well, not as much as she used to,” the blue-haired imp deadpanned.

“Gah, fuck off,” Storm squirmed, unhappy to be airing any of this history, especially in front of Wendy. “It WAS the size, Wendy, your fat ass is like five times the size of hers, okay??” she hissed, eager to shut this down.

“And seriously Lyssa,” the brunette continued, finding her voice, “this bitch might be forcing you to do stuff, but you really didn’t HAVE to sit on me THAT hard, did you??”

There was an awkward pause. Lyssa’s silver tongue abandoned her, and she failed to choke down a guilty cackle.

“Okay, shit, Storm? I AM sorry, okay?” Lyssa spluttered. She reached down to slide the captive’s blindfold up, wanting to lock eyes with her as she tried to spin this positively.

“For… wh… what? What did you do?” Storm swallowed hard, horribly suspicious of her partner but unwilling to give it weight by saying it out loud.

“Look, this is a good thing, I promise. Don’t overreact. Wendy wants to work with us. Isn’t that awesome? Can you imagine how fucking badass we will be if we stop squabbling, and work as a team?”

Storm did not reply. Her lips hung apart as she tried to comprehend the mortifying scope of this betrayal.

“You tricked me,” she finally gasped. “You tied me up. And… and you fucking TASED me!?” Storm got louder as her brain caught up with the true situation. “And… wait, no Lyssa, this is serious, listen to me.”

Storm was fuming at her partner’s prank, but her survival instincts were screaming that there was a bigger problem here. The Scotswoman looked pointedly at Wendy, cold-eyed and staring daggers.

“That woman is a fucking psychopath. Whatever she has promised you, Lyssa, she is full of shit. She just wants to break the pair of us, first chance she gets. Untie me, now, for your own fucking sake, or she will ruin us. Seriously.”

Storm was quivering with anger, stunned at the danger she felt Lyssa was placing them in. Her respect for Wendy’s capacity for violence was surpassed only by her contempt for the white-haired woman’s character.

Lyssa held out her hands placatingly. This was not an auspicious start to their alliance, but she was confident she could talk things round. She’d subtly hiked her shorts back up, and was perched casually on the bed.

“Storm, I know you’re pissed, but you’ve got her wrong. Sure, she is a bitch, but she’s not stupid. It’s in her interests too. We’re going to move past all this grudge match shit, and gang up on all the bitches who really deserve it. Come on Wendy, help me out here, you’re going to play nice, right?"

Lyssa turned her attention to her partner-in-crime, holding her breath a little as she hoped to prove Storm wrong, and give her something she could work with.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy would give these two credit for one thing - they made a funny pair. It took some real effort not to just burst out laughing every other minute with them.

She hit the nail on the head when it came to the Storm’s face and Lyssa’s ass, she could tell. She might not have known either of them for too long, comparatively speaking, but she was getting a good sense for the nature of their relationship before she came into the shitshow. The blue-haired brat seemed like the type to sneak in on Storm, strap her down, and take a seat on her face all night as a little prank. No big surprises, there.

She had a good, hard laugh when Storm exploded, taking a crack at her fat ass. That was some prime pot-kettle shit, right there. ”’Fat-ass’.” She reached down and gave the woman’s cheek a rough pitch. ”I’m about 90% sure our asses are almost the same damn size, but whatever. We can bust out the measuring tapes we’re through.”

As the two spoke and had their moment, Wendy took the time to idly stroll about the room, rearranging some items, putting them in place. She wasn’t sure exactly where this was going to go next, but she wanted to have her best instruments in place, regardless. If anything, she hoped she could have a little fun, even if they were ostensibly getting on the same page.

The ‘psychopath’ thing drew her attention, though. She picked up a couple of wax candles and came sauntering back over. ”Think I’m more of a sociopath, really.”

That probably didn’t help Lyssa out all that much, to be fair. The woman was lying on the charm, but this was clearly not going as smoothly as she’d pictured it in that little head of hers. Getting tased, tied up, and nearly smothered into oblivion hadn't put her in a negotiating mood, fancy that.

Wendy made her way back onto the bed, threw her legs over Storm’s lower body, and sat down on her lap. She wasn’t about to grind or do anything crazy, but she felt that injecting some pleasure into all of the pain might smooth things over.

”I can play nice. I can play really nice.” She leaned forward and planted her palms on the woman’s stomach. ”Look, Storm. I don’t like you all that much. You’re self-righteous, and you’re high on yourself and you’re a little too preachy for my tastes. But you are fucking good at what you do, and…” Ugh, this next part was the worst. ”You did beat me. You’re good. I can respect that.”

Wendy leaned forward a bit, daring to get closer to Storm’s face. ”I may not be all that good at math, but I know 3 is more than 2. You and Lyssa have a good little thing going on, here. There’s room for everybody to make good here. If you don’t trust me, trust that I want that. And it’s definitely a fuck load better than us just fucking each other up over and over.”

She considered for a moment, looking Storm over and weighing offers, deals, and promises she could make to at least get them on the same page. A thought occurred, and she leaned in closer to voice it. ”Let’s run the clock back. When we first met, how did you see things going?”