Jade part 2

After graduation and that fateful day, I entered into modeling, the industry crowned me the untouchable one. Vogue put me on the cover three times in one year, shot in nothing but blood-red silk and bite marks they airbrushed away. Designers beg to dress me. Photographers come on set when I walk in. I never say yes to anyone. I only say yes to him.

At night I crawl into his bed still wearing whatever couture I destroyed that day, thighs slick, lipstick smeared, and he fucks me until the headboard cracks. I am his favourite. His perfect, vicious doll. And when he growls, “Bring me more,” I always answer, “Yes, Master,” with his cock still buried inside me.

This season I decided I wanted three at once.

The Trinity (Arden, Bellamy, Sage). Twenty-two, identical, red-haired, porcelain-skinned, legs that go on forever. The agency calls them miracles. I call them dessert.

I first saw them at the Paris castings, lined up like offerings in white cotton bras and panties, trembling under the fluorescent lights. I walked past, slow, deliberate, letting my fingertips brush each of their throats in turn. One touch each. That was all it took.

I fed them the vision in pieces, like slow poison.

To Arden in the makeup chair: her on her knees, my tongue in her cunt, two identical mouths sucking her nipples while a shadow with obsidian eyes watches. To Bellamy in the hallway: her bent over the casting table, wrists bound with measuring tape, my fingers in her ass while she watches her sisters come on his cock. To Sage in the bathroom mirror: all three of them on a runway at 3 a.m., naked except for diamond collars, crawling toward me while I hold his belt like a leash.

They started breathing my name by day three.

I booked them for my exclusive show (my own line now, funded by the broken empires of every model I’ve delivered). Backstage I made them wait in a private fitting room, door locked, lights low. They were already shaking when I walked in wearing nothing but a black silk robe and the Louboutins still flecked with last night’s cum.

I let the robe fall. Their identical gasps were music.“Take everything off,” I said, voice soft, lethal.

They obeyed instantly, cotton ripping in their hurry, three perfect bodies revealed: pale, freckled, nipples hard, pussies already glistening. I circled them like a shark.

I started with Arden. Pushed her against the mirror, spread her thighs with my knee, and slid two fingers straight into her soaked cunt. She cried out, hips bucking, “Jade… fuck, please…” I curled my fingers, found her G-spot, and pumped slow. Bellamy and Sage watched, hands drifting between their own legs, unable to stop.

I moved to Bellamy next. Bent her over the makeup table, spread her ass cheeks, and licked a long, wet stripe from clit to hole. She screamed into the counter, “Oh God, Jade!” I kept licking while I finger-fucked Arden harder, Sage whimpering beside us, fingers now buried in her own cunt, matching my rhythm without being told.

Finally Sage. I pulled her to her knees in front of me, fisted that red hair, and made her look up. “Open,” I ordered. She did, mouth wide, tongue out, tears already falling. I spat on her tongue, then fed her the fingers that had just been inside her sisters. She sucked greedily, moaning like she was starving.

I lined them up on their knees in front of the full-length mirror, three identical angels dripping, trembling, eyes blown black with lust. I stood behind them, one hand on Arden’s throat, one between Sage’s legs, Bellamy grinding against my thigh like a bitch in heat.

“Look at yourselves,” I whispered, forcing their heads up. “Look how pretty you are when you’re ruined for him.”

I fingered them in perfect unison, slow, then fast, then slow again, edging them until their legs shook and their pleas turned into broken sobs. “Jade… please… we need it… we need him…” I leaned down, licked the shell of Arden’s ear. “He’s coming. And when he walks through that door, you’re going to crawl to him, spread yourselves open, and beg him to break you exactly like this.”

I pulled my fingers free at the last second. They collapsed forward, foreheads pressed to the mirror, asses in the air, three identical pussies clenching on nothing, dripping onto the marble, moaning my name like a prayer.

I stepped back, robe hanging open, nipples hard, cunt throbbing, and smiled at the wreckage I’d made.

Perfect.

The door handle turned.

They whimpered in unison, bodies arching toward the sound, already his without ever having seen him.

I whispered, just for them:

“Good girls. Now show Master how wet Jade made you.”