The Playboy s Play Thing

WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS AND IS NOT LIMITED TO:

- Violent subject matter.

- Mature Language.

- Discussions about things including self-harm, thoughts of suicide, and emotional, physical and sexual abuse. (Content warnings are always posted at the beginning of chapters containing sensitive subject matter, but please still be aware of this before choosing to read my story).

- Explicit sexual content: This book does contain various aspects of a BDSM relationship and is a reverse harem story. Sexual content may include, but is not limited to: spanking, bondage, blindfolding, impact play, oral sex, temperature play, humiliation, triple penetration, knife play, degradation, breath play, dacryphilia, foursomes, begging, sensory play, orgasm control, squirting, anal play, the use of various types of sex toys, role play, exhibitionism, consensual non-consent (CNC), and masturbation.

(Please note that all characters partaking in these acts are fully consenting adults).

_____

Monday mornings are the worst.

To be honest, I can't recall the last time I enjoyed a Monday.

At ten in the morning, I already have to suppress the temptation to jump from a bridge.

Alright, it makes sense. I know that seems theatrical, but I swear to god that the universe is against me right now.

Please understand that while I love my partner dearly, there are moments when I question how on earth he was accepted to college.

The moron decided it was OK to turn off my 8:00 am alarm this morning and set his own instead. Naturally, it was scheduled for one hour later than I need. What the heck was going through his mind, really? Let's not get too carried away. Nothing at all, I would venture to suppose.

His alarm was set to wake him up so he could go to the gym, but if I returned home later and found him in the same spot—on the couch—I wouldn't be the least bit shocked.

It's reasonable to say that our recent interactions have sometimes been tense. Once again, I have to remind myself that things will improve if I just give it a little more time. Aiden was lovely, and that's enough for me, even if our relationship was never one of those really romantic relationships you see in movies. Even after everyone else departed, he stayed put.

But in spite of all of this, his stupidity this morning caused me to miss a customer meeting. In addition, I tore my stockings off when I tripped over almost nothing due to my poor coordination. It was simply coffee I wanted. Is that asking for too much?

I go up to The Horizon, a little café close to my residence, and grasp the door handle. This is my one and only source of enjoyment right now. Soon after I moved to New York, I found it, and I've been going there every day ever since.

The aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee grinds fills the sleek decor as soon as I open the door.

A recognizable voice asks, "Cindy, is that you?" from the supply closet at the rear.

Not only is the owner, Jolene, the most generous person I have ever met, but she's also perhaps the scariest. I'm just glad I have her favor because, even at her advanced age, I think she's still capable of making the hardest-bitten men weep.

I go to where she is speaking and say, "Hey, Mrs. Sawyer." I notice her little frame peeking around the corner, facing me and standing with her arms folded.

She asks, "What did I tell you, dear?" in a tone that is not entirely cautionary.

I instantly corrected her, realizing what she meant, "Hey, Jolene." She insisted on being addressed by her first name for some reason, which I don't understand. I cannot exactly figure out why, but my remark made her grin. She got off the footstool she was standing on and jumped down, holding a new bag of coffee beans tightly in her arms.

Jolene asks me, "What brings you here at this time of day?" as I pick up the burlap bag and bring it to the counter.