Puppy-girl Ch. 02

"Okay, Joel," she said. Her smile was calm, and her voice level. "We'll have it your way. No more flirting. No more Daddy. No more bullshit."

"A-are you sure?" I was suddenly uncertain.

Her sudden shift in demeaner was unsettling, and I wasn't sure if she was playing some game here. I almost wanted to take back what I said. I wanted to tell her to forget it all -- that she could flirt with me as much as she wanted. I hated that, despite how submissive she was when she was impaled on my cock, in everyday life, I seemed to be totally controlled by her every whim.

"Absolutely," she replied. "Friends?"

She extended her hand, and I shook it, unsure of what else I should be doing.

"Talk soon!" she said lightly.

The door swung shut with a certain finality as she quickly left. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't like how that ended. I was confused, battling between rushing out after her, and downing a whole bottle of whiskey just to calm myself down. My hands balled up into fists as I realised who she was running off with -- that she was going to return to her psycho boyfriend, with her soaked panties stuffed into her hand. She would probably end up fucking him tonight. I hope you like fucking my leftovers, I thought cynically.

Whiskey it was, then. I needed it at this point. But not from here -- June certainly needed time to get over my earlier digression. I needed to go home and think. A bottle of 12-year-old scotch that I was saving for a special occasion was suddenly calling my name. Bitterly, I wished it was Violet calling my name instead.

--

My head buzzed as I stood at my kitchen sink, the bottle of scotch gripped in my hand. I had swigged from the bottle directly, relishing the burning sensation as the smooth liquid ran into my mouth and down my throat. I raised the bottle again, swallowing more. I was well and truly on my way to being drunk.

I wiped my hand across my face, pressing my fingers into the corners of my eyes to try and wipe away the memory of her. Then I caught a slight scent on my fingers. Musky, slightly sweet. It was the remnants of her pussy on my fingers -- the juices that had gushed from her hole earlier still lingering on my skin. Her scent was as persistent as the vision of her in my mind. More whiskey. Need to get her out of my head.

Then my phone buzzed.

I opened the message from Violet and my skin seemed to be doused in ice at the sight of the photo she had texted to me. I dropped the bottle and it crashed onto the kitchen counter and then onto the floor, the thick glass of the bottle holding true under the sudden impact. It fell on its side, glugging amber liquid onto the floor, but I couldn't focus on that right now. I was filled with rage, jealousy, disgust.

Violet was straddling Hugo's cock like a little fucking slut. She held her phone high at a selfie angle, her little tits exposed, nipples hardened. Her cheeks glowed a bright red, and she hung her tongue out obscenely, heavily lidded eyes gazing at me through the phone camera. Hugo's face was slightly obscured off camera, but I could see the punk's mouth, gritting teeth as he ploughed into Violet. My fucking puppy-girl. Mine. Not his.

The text she had sent along with the photo read:

"Hope you're having a good evening. I sure am.

Miss u xo"