Heart In A Cage

20

Isabella

Of all issues spanning from the corruption of I and Andreas' Boyfriend-Girlfriend game to something as simple as being unable to get boxes of clothing stocks open within a suitable amount of time, my current problem is the worst.

In a panic, I huff and puff in the corner of a changing room, half naked and stressed out after hunting through the mall for hours and still failing to spot something desirable. Me and Aya had strolled into the stores just as they opened, and it wouldn't be a problem that it's been two useless hours if Andreas―that fool―had given me a few more day's notice of the upcoming revelry approaching at midnight.

And twelve-plus hours isn't enough time for preparation. Not when madness had been unleashed in my mind following the very...educating session I had last night.

During the morning after, I was glad Andreas stuck to his early workout routine. I woke up to the empty space of the bed and was given the privacy of observing my brown-colored ass in the mirror. That ache on my skin actively teases me about my very defiant behaviour—and how much submitting to him thrills me.

Aya, in being my immediate and uncertified designer, was impossible to hide the bruises from considering she had me twirl around in various clothes and undress in front of her. Being the freak she is, she slapped my ass and balked at her assumption that I was spanked. I didn't directly admit that it was true.

She flicks the changing room's curtains open and saunters in, casually pausing in the center to scan the clothing item she's brought—a crimson dress, made of both translucent and opaque components, luxuriating in its own glamour, and being shoved at my chest.

"If I have to dig through the store one more time," she says as I slowly pick it from her, "I might pass out. But luckily for my well-being, I found the perfect thing for you."

I stop reposing against the wall and slip into it. I spin around by the mirror, studying the fit, and just a few seconds of glimpsing at it and I'm wallowing in the thought of not having to visit another store. I face Aya and tell her, "You're a pain in the ass, I love you, and you're the best."

She crosses her arms and tilts her head, squinting but smiling as she leans against the wall. "You don't need to tell me things I already know."

"Oh, shut up." I turn back from her and eye the dress once more before deciding that I'll take it off. "That wasn't your incentive to get cocky."

"When he's grinding up against your ass and trying to keep down his dick, tell me the same thing, babe."

I pause as I hook my thumbs under the dress's straps. "You're terrible. Get out of here."

With a smug curve of her lips, she's out the room―but not before bringing her hand to my behind. I yelp and shove her the rest of the way out, then touch the already-throbbing portion of skin.

There's a vibration from the floor, and beside Andreas' credit card, a notification appears on my phone. I tug down half of my dress and pick it up.

Andreas: What colour are you going to wear?

I roll my eyes and tap at the screen.

Isabella: Red.

An immediate response.

Andreas: Like a juicy strawberry. I'm salivating.

A distant longing of mine is that I can talk to Andreas without his constant use of senseless humor. Especially when it's the same string of jokes threatening to eat me.

Isabella: Why does it matter?

Andreas: Speed up. I've got a gift that needs to be given to you before the party. And if it's as magnificent as I've intended it to be, you can get it after, too. Depends on if you'll like it or not.