You Would Be the Party
Seven years ago, I was engaged.
Not for long, of course. I’ve never been the type to settle for anything less than divine worship.
I didn’t throw a traditional bachelorette party. No drunken games, no plastic tiaras. I gathered my sisters, cousins, and a few close girlfriends. And then… I invited one special guest:
My ex-boyfriend.
He used to think he knew me. Thought he had power. Thought I was the one who would come crawling back. Silly boy.
He begged me not to marry. Pleaded for one more chance.
So I gave him one.
I told him, “Fine. You may join us for the weekend.”
Not as my date. Not even as a guest.
As our servant. And if he would serve us well I’ll be his reward! Tempting 😈 right?
He agreed. Desperation makes men obedient.
I still remember arriving at the airport with him by my side, only to be met by my mother and family. The look on their faces? Shock, disbelief, fascination. But I just smiled. The weekend was only beginning.
We didn’t speak to him at first. He served us in silence while we lounged, laughed, and whispered secrets in not familiar to him language to confuse him even more. Each time a glass emptied, he crawled to refill it. When someone snapped their fingers, he obeyed without hesitation.
My cousin made him massage her feet.
My best friend used him as her mirror stand.
My older sister? She made him kneel behind her as a human footstool for over an hour.
He wasn’t a man anymore. He was décor. Property. Entertainment.
And when the time was right, I finally looked him in the eyes.
“You always wanted to be part of my inner circle,” I purred, tracing the leather collar around his throat. “Well, look at you now. Not my equal… not even my partner. Just our toy.”
“You’re lucky I let you watch me move on.”
And now?
I fantasize about doing it again.
But this time, it wouldn’t be him.
It would be you.
Serving me and my friends on a private jet 🛩️ on the way to the secret island. Naked, kneeling, aching to please. Every command a test. Every humiliation a reward.
