Jo’s memories bleed through

In the stress of the situation something unexpected happens. A memory—not yours—surfaces unbidden. It’s one of Jo’s memories but it feels vivid and real - as though you lived it.

You’re naked, breasts bare, shaved pussy gleaming with baby oil, on your knees in a dimly lit bedroom you vaguely recognise. Black arm sleeve—long, glossy latex—encasing your arms behind your back from fingertips to shoulder, the material cool and tight against your skin. A thin leather collar circles your throat, not ****, just present. A small silver tag dangles against your collarbone: Property of M.

You’re waiting. For M. For master. For Mark. Ass up, forehead pressed to the carpet, knees spread wide. Back arched perfectly. The position is automatic, trained. You can feel the faint ache in your thighs from holding it so long, the slow drip of arousal down your inner thigh. You’re not allowed to touch yourself. You’re not allowed to speak unless spoken to.

The door opens behind you. Footsteps—slow, deliberate. A low voice, amused. “There’s my good pet.”

Mark. He circles you once, inspecting. A finger traces the line of your spine, down to the small of your back, then over the curve of your ass. You shiver, cunt clenching on nothing.

“Present,” he says. You arch deeper, spreading your knees wider, offering yourself completely.

He kneels behind you. No preamble. One hand fists your hair—gentle but unyielding—pulling your head back just enough to make your throat stretch. The other guides his cock to your entrance. He slides in slow, owning every inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Then he fucks you like you’re his. Deep, relentless, possessive strokes that make your whole body rock forward. You’re not allowed to come until he says. You’re not allowed to beg unless he asks you to. You just… take it. Grateful. Owned. A pet in heat, collared and sleeved and filled.

The memory causes you to pause. You want to relive that. Desperately. Fuck! You look from Jo to Mark. Envious of their sexual dynamic. Jo had loved being dominated. Still did. You wished you’d known… at least you know now.

Jo—in your old body—leans down slightly, voice low near your ear. “We don’t have to, baby. But… it could be fun. Let off some steam before your big ski day tomorrow. I think you’ll love it…” His—your—hand squeezes your hip possessively, thumb brushing the edge of the coat where skin peeks out. You look up at him and nod, not trusting your voice. Then he looks at Mark and Kate. “We’re in. Lead the way.”

Mark grins, slow and knowing. “Perfect. It’s just a short walk. Our place has a private hot tub out back, killer view of the forest.”

Kate smiles too, softer, almost sympathetic as she looks down at you. “You look… different tonight, Jo. Glowy.” Her eyes flick to your flushed cheeks, the way you’re shifting your weight like you can’t quite stand still. She knows. Or suspects.

The walk is ****, snow flakes hitting your face and melting. Every step makes the bullet shift inside you, grinding against sensitive walls. Your thighs are slick; you’re terrified a drip will run down your leg and show. Jo keeps a firm grip on your elbow, steadying you when your knees threaten to buckle. Mark walks ahead with Kate, chatting casually about powder conditions tomorrow like this is normal.

Their place is a sleek A-frame a few streets over—bigger than your condo, lights warm through the windows. Inside smells like pine and woodsmoke. Coats come off in the entryway.

You hesitate, fingers on the zipper of the long puffy coat. Jo’s already shrugging out of his jacket, revealing the broad chest you used to own. Mark and Kate are peeling layers too—her slim body in leggings and a cropped top, his lean frame in a thermal that hugs muscle.

“Relax,” Jo murmurs, stepping close. His big hands slide the zipper down for you, slow, deliberate. The coat parts. Black lace negligee clings to your curves, barely covering anything. Heavy breasts spill over the cups, nipples dark and stiff against the sheer fabric. The hem rides high on your thighs; one wrong move and everything shows.

Mark’s eyes drop immediately. Heat floods your face—and lower. Kate makes a soft appreciative sound.

“Damn,” Mark says quietly. “Still as gorgeous as ever.”

Jo’s hand settles on the small of your back, possessive. “She’s is.”