Sophia Locke’s husband’s been gone for weeks, so she’s been filling the empty space by cracking a whip for cash. He knows about it. Her stepson Elias Cash doesn’t. Then one afternoon he overhears her phone call and catches the name “Lady Priscilla.” He plugs it into his laptop and the profile picture pops up—leather, attitude, that whip resting on her hip like she owns it. He shoves his hand down his pants without even closing the door. Sophia walks in, sees him mid-stroke, her picture glowing on the screen. She clocks the situation in a blink, smirks, and decides he can have the full experience. She grabs the gear, steps back out as Lady Priscilla, and plants her heel on his chest before he can even catch his breath. From there it’s straight-up domination: orders, restraints, and the kind of pleasure he never thought he’d earn from her.
Sophia Locke’s husband’s been gone for weeks, so she’s been filling the empty space by cracking a whip for cash. He knows about it. Her stepson Elias Cash doesn’t. Then one afternoon he overhears her phone call and catches the name “Lady Priscilla.” He plugs it into his laptop and the profile picture pops up—leather, attitude, that whip resting on her hip like she owns it. He shoves his hand down his pants without even closing the door. Sophia walks in, sees him mid-stroke, her picture glowing on the screen. She clocks the situation in a blink, smirks, and decides he can have the full experience. She grabs the gear, steps back out as Lady Priscilla, and plants her heel on his chest before he can even catch his breath. From there it’s straight-up domination: orders, restraints, and the kind of pleasure he never thought he’d earn from her.
