The third installment of the girl/Mistress BDSM series comes out on November 6th. ARCs will go out next month. I’m tempting the fans of the series with a little taste of what is next for our cast of characters. Trixi, CJ, and of course Megan are back for another delectable (and heartbreaking) chapter. Are you ready?

It had been almost a month since New Year’s Eve. As much as Trixi enjoyed the celebration, it drove a wedge between her and Megan. Rightfully so, Trixi understood, although it had done exactly what Trixi had hoped for. In the Los Angeles BDSM circuit, she was the Mistress of Mistresses, beloved by all. No matter what party she attended, fans flocked to her side, asking to be taught how to train a submissive like Megan—who had a little fan following of her own. Not that Megan knew anything about it. Since New Year’s, she hadn’t left the house unless dragged on a leash.

While Megan obeyed all of Trixi’s wishes, the light in her eyes had dimmed. It was that wide-eyed brightness Megan possessed that she had fallen in love with. Yes, she loved Megan; it had grown from some sick and twisted game to a genuine, heartfelt romance. And it pained her to see Megan in such a funk. No matter how many diamonds she showered upon Megan, nothing seemed to help ease the depression.

As much as Trixi wanted advice from her beloved Aggie, that wasn’t an option. Not that she couldn’t call her, Trixi just didn’t want to listen to Aggie’s condescending tone because she had been right: playing with Megan was the same as playing with fire. And now that Trixi had burnt Megan from the inside out, there wasn’t much left of her. She was a giant bag of ash disguised as a person, and if Trixi opened that bag, Megan might blow away in the wind.

It was Aggie’s world that remained at the back of her thoughts. Specifically, how Aggie’s marriage became so much stronger when Justine came home with her from France. That was exactly what Trixi wanted. The perfect relationship, a marriage of sorts, with Megan, which would grow ever stronger by adding another person to the mix. The idea of such an endeavor played out daily, over and over, as she watched Megan sit on the patio of the beach house, reading. Hopefully, the introduction of a third person would have a positive impact on Trixi and Megan’s bond. Besides, giving Megan a new someone to play with might just snap her out of this funk.

Finding Megan had been hard enough, so she looked to the one person who always had a plethora of women at her side, CJ. Making a quick phone call, Trixi said, “Bring me that April chick!”

There was a very long and obnoxious laugh on the other end of the phone. “It’s going to cost you.”

If Trixi wanted April as a new addition, there were several requirements. April couldn’t go back to the Valley. So CJ would need to ban her from attending any of her parties, as well as others in Southern California. She would not abide all her hard work tainted by inexperienced Mistresses who didn’t care. And to seal the deal with April, it was a matter of blackmail. She could choose Trixi or exile. If she declined the offer, Trixi’s power precluded her from attending any TeenDom party within a hundred-mile radius.

There was one other prerequisite to the terms, one that Trixi wasn’t fond of, and it led them to seal the deal at a local tattoo parlor. When Trixi entered the establishment, she cringed at the thought of what she’d have to do. Despite her disgust, Trixi put on a fake front, puffing out her chest. “Let’s finish this because I have a woman to go collect, and I don’t have all day!”

More than smug, CJ grinned and said, “God, I can’t wait to see my name on your ass. Are you sure I can’t convince you to put it on your tit?”

“You’re an ass, so that’s exactly where you’ll be,” Trixi said. She pushed past everyone and made her way to the back room, where she lifted her tight mini dress, wearing only a thong. She made herself comfortable on the table, welcomed the release of endorphins, and after forty-five minutes, CJ’s initials were permanently—though not proudly—displayed on her right ass cheek.

The entire time, CJ laughed at Trixi’s horrific expressions, and in the end, as they walked out of the tattoo shop, Trixi punched CJ in the arm. “You know, I loathe you and your ass.”

“Haha. Your ass now belongs to me.” She jumped up and down, most excited about the situation.

“Just give me April’s address and never touch her again,” Trixi said, regretting the decision already.

With that, CJ pulled a balled-up piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Trixi, who smiled as she blew a kiss. “I love you, you piece of shit.”

In an instant, Trixi found herself in the backseat of the Bentley, with Paolo speeding off to the Palisades.

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