Claire wants to fuck her with a strap on

Claire’s hands stayed on June’s breasts a moment longer, thumbs still pressing slow circles over the peaks of her nipples through the ivory silk. Then she released her and stepped back just far enough to reach behind one of the stacked crates. The movement was unhurried, almost casual, as if she had planned every second of this.

From a black canvas bag June hadn’t noticed before, Claire drew out a harness of thick black leather straps and a silicone cock that made June’s stomach drop.

It was large—longer and thicker than anything June had ever taken, the shaft a deep flesh tone with realistic veins and a flared head. The harness looked solid, professional, the kind of thing bought for use rather than novelty. Claire held it up between them so the dim bulb caught the smooth surface of the toy.

“I want to fuck you with this,” she said simply. “Right here. Right now.”

June stared. The words took a second to register. When they did, heat flooded her face and a cold rush of disbelief followed it.

“You’re not serious.”

Claire’s expression didn’t change. She began unbuckling the harness with practiced motions, sliding the straps open. “I’ve been serious since the moment I walked into this building. Turn around, hands on the shelf, and lift that pretty dress.”

“No.” June’s voice cracked. She took a half-step back until her shoulder blades met the cold metal of a shelf. The crystal beads on her bodice scraped softly against the steel. “Claire—this is my wedding night. I’m getting married in two hours I already said the vows. Eric is out there. People are waiting for us to cut the cake. You can’t—”

“I can.” Claire stepped into the harness and began fastening the buckles around her hips and thighs. The big silicone cock jutted out obscenely from the front of her black trousers, heavy and unapologetic. “And I will. Unless you’d rather I send those emails right now.”

June’s hands came up in a placating gesture, the crumpled note still trapped between her fingers. “Wait. Please. I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. I have access to the joint account—Eric doesn’t check it closely. Ten thousand. Twenty. Just name a number and walk away. We never have to speak again.”

Claire finished the last buckle and gave the strap-on a small, deliberate tug, settling it against her body. “I don’t want your money.”

“Then later,” June tried, desperation creeping into her voice. “Not tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. I’ll meet you anywhere you want. Hotel. Your place. Anywhere. Just not here. Not while I’m still in this dress. Not on my wedding night.”

Claire closed the distance again. The thick head of the toy brushed the front of June’s gown, an unmistakable, heavy presence. She reached up and took hold of the edge of the veil, letting the silk tulle slide between her fingers.

“No,” she said, soft and final. “Tonight. In this closet. In that dress. While your new husband is fifty feet away wondering where his bride disappeared to. That’s the only deal on the table.”

June’s breath came faster. She could hear the distant bass of the reception playlist, the occasional burst of laughter that felt like it belonged to another world. Her reflection in a dusty mirror propped against the far wall showed her exactly as she was: veil still pinned, pearl earrings catching the light, white satin pumps planted on concrete, the high slit of her gown revealing one long leg. She looked like a bride. She felt like a hostage.

“Claire, please—”

“Yes or no, June.” Claire’s hand settled on the shaft of the strap-on, stroking it once as if demonstrating what was coming. “I’m not negotiating. I’m telling you what happens next. You either bend over for me, or everyone you care about finds out what you did at nineteen before the night is over.”

The silence that followed was thick. June’s pulse hammered in her throat. She thought of Eric’s face when the emails arrived. She thought of her mother’s voice. She thought of the clinic letterhead and the way Claire had waited in the car without asking questions all those years ago—and the way that same woman was now using every piece of that history as a weapon.

Her shoulders sagged. The fight drained out of her in one long, shaky exhale.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Claire’s eyes flickered with something that might have been satisfaction, or something colder.

June swallowed hard and forced the next words out. “How… how do you want it?”

She stood there in the cramped closet, still fully dressed in her wedding gown, veil, jewelry, and heels, waiting for the answer while the big silicone cock pointed at her like an accusation.