Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“Care to make this more interesting?” Jack wondered. “I’ll put ten bucks on Corey winning.”
Hmm. I turned pensive and eyed the brats. Corey was a good choice. He had a high threshold for pain.
“Ten on Tate,” Franklin said.
Another good choice. Tate wasn’t a pain slut in that sense, but he had the ability to use pain to gain strength. Pain gave him attitude and made him determined.
“I think Corey too,” Reese said.
My gaze landed on Cam. He was the only one who hadn’t made a sound yet. Aside from a few gasps and gritty whimpers.
“No bias allowed, gentlemen,” Reese added. “If your partner’s being spanked, you gotta bet on someone else.”
Bless—I loved my boy, I loved how much stronger he’d gotten, but he was no pain slut. Nothing about him was extreme, for which I was thankful. A lower threshold for suffering allowed for fiercer reactions, and those were my crack.
All right, my turn. “I’ll put ten on Cam.” Because when it came down to it, one thing was stronger than a brat trying to prove a point or being competitive, and that was a slave out to please his Owner.
“My money’s on Kit,” Sloan said.
“I’m tipsy enough to bet on Noa.” River lifted his glass of bourbon. “Cheers.”
“I hate you all!” Noa yelled.
“I’ll bet on Noa too,” Archie said.
“Oh great, a pity bet,” Noa groaned. “Jesus, motherfucker, Daddy!”
Shay chuckled. “Sorry, Noa, but my money’s on Cam.”
I tipped my glass at him. Smart pet.
I glanced at Macklin, who immediately shook his head. “I’m not betting on anyone. Tate’s still giving me shit for siding with the Sadists at the boot camp event.”
I laughed.
Fair enough.
Over the next several minutes, we got to enjoy five cute asses turning redder and redder. Corey started crying. So did Kit. Tate swore over his Master because “this wasn’t the goddamn plan for tonight.” The solid smacks filled the air and mingled with the Christmas music in the background. Cam became increasingly upset and couldn’t hide the agony he was in any longer. But Tate was the first to safeword.
“Red! Fucking fuck!” He rolled off Kingsley’s lap and landed on the floor with a muted thump. “It’s supposed to be a party, Master! A vanilla Christmas party!”
Kingsley chuckled and peered down at his boy. “I don’t remember seein’ vanilla anywhere on the invitation. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go put a cold washcloth on your ass.”
Tate whimpered and was dragged off the floor.
“My sweet boy.” Kingsley hugged his property to him and kissed the side of his head. “You okay?”
“Jury’s still out, Sir,” Tate grumbled.
Franklin was frowning. “There’s ten dollars I’ll never see again. How disappointing.”
“Piss off, whore,” Tate snapped.
See, that just made Franklin smile. “You say the sweetest things, darling.”
Jack cleared his throat. “I’d be careful if I were you, Tate. Next time, I’m the one beating you.”
“Shit,” Tate muttered.
I shook my head in amusement, then gestured at the guest bath under the stairs. “Have at it. We left plenty of extra towels in there, and there’s ice in the kitchen—”
“Oh my God, red!” Corey screamed. Hell, was it really Corey? So soon? “Gah! Fuck! I gotta poop so bad! The. Turkey. Wants. Out.” He scrambled off Greer’s lap so fast that he nearly tripped, and then he was bolting up the stairs and tugging up his pants. “Daddy, come rub my tummy after, please!”
Sloan was doing his best to keep from laughing. “Of course, baby!”
Maybe I was getting drunk too, ’cause I thought this was too damn funny.
Noa was next to safeword—and the first to stay on his Daddy’s lap and cry it out.
Pride swelled in my chest because Kit was a fighter we all underestimated from time to time. But he did throw in the towel a few seconds after Noa, though I was still impressed. And it seemed Shay and I had loot to share when Cam was declared the winner.
“Good job, everyone.” I trapped my glass to my chest and gave the boys a round of applause. They’d earned it.
Kit had crawled up to cry it out too, and he clung to Luke like a baby monkey. “C-can we p-please lose the toe bondage now? It itches s-so badly, Daddy.”
“We sure can, sweetheart. I’ll remove it right now.” Luke went all in on the comfort, so I headed over to the snack buffet to mix our boy a drink. He liked it colorful; he liked it sugary sweet.
A nice spanking session tended to have a strong effect on Littles who regressed, and one by one, Kit, Corey, and Noa changed into PJs. They were fucking adorable, cuddled up on the couch, wriggling their freed, chafed little toes, and sniffling and giggling into their cocktails.
It was time for the Secret Santa reveal.
We were prepared.
“Well.” Greer slapped his hands against his thighs. “I think I’m gonna step out and buy the paper.”