Elsa

They got you good.

As you lie naked on Lotte’s bed, your hands and feet cuffed to it, spread out like a drawing in a medical textbook, you have **** but to hand it to CCL. You are blindfolded.

You never would’ve ended up naked in this room with Lotte, and Lotte must know it: she used Julieta to lure you in here. That was where you fucked up. You didn’t even understand the words that Julieta was saying, so you just went with it. You had just finished giving Nevaeh a new tattoo

Now here you are. A few minutes ago someone was in the room, and it wasn’t Lotte. Lotte always smells like expensive perfume, but this other girl that came in smelled like deodorant. She didn’t say anything, but it sounded like she cleaned the place up? Lotte must have **** her to. But there was also something that sounded like clicking. Did this girl use the computer?

Well, whoever she is, she saw you naked. That doesn’t bother you. What bothers you is that you don’t know how long you’re going to be tied up here, or what you’ll have to do to get free. This is not a turn on. Now, getting tied up by someone that you don’t hate? That would be different. This could be amazing with the right person. Or even a couple people.

Maybe that hot cop that was hanging out around here earlier this evening. You wouldn’t mind giving her a tattoo. Honestly, your best hope is that some other officer comes in here and finds you. Maybe she’ll want to fool around and take advantage of the situation, then let you go or something.

You just… so don’t want to be here whenever Lotte shows up. Maybe you should have acted more distressed when that other girl was in here, but you were worried that it was some kind of test. And it’s not in your nature to act like a damsel. You are the coolest person in this fucking place, damn it. Except for maybe Amy and Olivia. They’re a power couple for the ages, even if they aren’t official and they like to pretend that they don’t secretly think about each other all the time. Or maybe not so secretly, you don’t fucking know.

You groan in frustration and rattle the cuffs. This blows.

There’s a sudden, horrible thud in the hallway somewhere, and a cracking noise. Jesus. It sounds like someone just broke her neck. What are they doing out there?

Rain patters on the window, and the house creaks. You hear footsteps, then something heavy being dragged.

Somewhere, a door clicks. God. Why couldn’t you have joined a normal sorority?

Because you’re too cool for that, that’s why. But earlier tonight all the officers were literally sprinting around the house naked except for strap-ons, hunting for Delilah and Rey. Are they not tired out yet? What the shit?

And when you were downstairs, you saw that Dorothy had slow cooker out and was making orange-glazed meatballs. You’re so hungry!

The doors opens and someone enters the room. It’s definitely Lotte, but before you have time to do anything, your face is smothered by Dutch pussy. She puts her full weight on your face, and she’s obviously just been fooling around because she’s covered in half-dried, fragrant juices down there. You can barely breathe.

She plays with your hair, tugging to try to get you to use your mouth. You stubbornly keep it shut and just try to breath. She pulls off your blindfold, and you see that she’s wearing just a big t-shirt, no panties.

She looks down at you curiously.

“You have given an unauthorized tattoo,” she says, like that’s supposed to sound cool with her dumb accent.

Unauthorized? You tattooed CCL on Nevaeh’s lower back. You don’t think that was a great tattoo for her to ask for, but Nevaeh is sweet, and you will do anything that she asks you to just because you’re pretty sure she’s had a hard life.

Lotte lets you up for air.

“Nothing in the bylaws about tattoos,” you say. There isn’t.

Lotte responds by grinding her pussy on your face again, almost humping you. It’s painful and you want air. She knows that.

“I want a tattoo,” she says, letting you up again.

You gasp for air. “Yeah? Give me a razor blade and I’ll give you a good one.”

That buys you another face full of her pussy. Maybe you’re lucky that pussy is all you’re getting. Lotte’s pretty and she has a sexy body, but that’s probably the one ass in CCL House that you would not eat.

She holds you down tight this time until you feel lightheaded. Lotte is such a fucking psycho! Officers can get away with a lot, but she can’t fucking suffocate you. Maybe she hasn’t gotten the memo on that.

Time to swallow your pride.

“Fine,” you snarl when she lets you up.

“Good girl.” She unlocks your cuffs and you sit up, rubbing your wrists, then wiping your mouth.

“Jesus fucking Chris. You could’ve asked, bitch,” you snap.

Lotte gives you that smile. “Would you have done it?”

“No.” And she knows it. “I need my stuff.”

“I have it.” She holds up the pouch with your tattoo gear. Great. So she’s searched your room. She probably found your weed, your toys, your cute underwear that you were saving, and everything else that you wouldn’t want her of all people to have.

You snatch the pouch away.

“I need my strap,” you add. Surely Lotte knows that you only give tattoos to girls if you’re inside them at the time.

“Use mine,” she says, pointing. “I know where yours has been.”

Oh, fuck Lotte. She, of all people, wants to look down her nose at Nevaeh? You hate her so much.

You’re already naked, so you pick up Lotte’s strap. The belts are black and the dildo is purple and fat. CCL House is the one place in the world where it’s almost guaranteed that literally every person who lives here owns a strap-on. Except probably Sally. Maybe Dorothy. OK, so there are a bunch of girls who probably don’t have one. But a lot of you do!

As you buckle it on, Lotte turns around and pulls up her t-shirt, exposing her pale ass. She points at a spot on her hip.

“This is the place,” she says. “And this is the tattoo.” She hands you a scrap of paper with a word on it: Sanne. What’s that mean? You don’t know. Maybe it’s a name.

“And?”

“What?”

“What kind of lettering?”

Lotte just shrugs at you, then takes your place on her bed, facedown. She keeps her t-shirt up so her lower half is exposed, and gently, almost absently reaches under her body to rub her clit and get ready for the strap.

Jesus. This is now what you had planned for tonight. You put your stuff on the bed and climb on. Lotte has fancy condoms, and you roll one onto the strap-on, picking up your phone from the corner of the bed where your clothes are. Lotte isn’t looking at you. You think about taking a picture of her pale, shapely ass, but you have a better idea.

You quickly pull up google and do a little English to Dutch translation for DUMB CUNT. Looks like that’s… ‘dom kut’ You’ll have to trust google on this one.

What to do?

Give Lotte the tattoo that she wants?

Or tattoo ‘dom kut’ on her hip?