She knelt, blindfolded, wrists bound behind her back with silk. His voice was a low command—“Stay still.” The cool leather paddle struck, and she moaned, wet and waiting. He circled her, slow and deliberate, whispering praise and filth. Fingers teased, then stopped. “Not yet,” he said. Footsteps. Silence. Her breath quickened. Then—a second touch. Rougher. Hungrier. A gasp escaped her lips. “That’s not you…” she whispered. The blindfold slipped. Two of them stood above her—twins. Identical, grinning.

“We share everything,” one said.

“And you said you liked surprises,” the other added, kneeling.

She only smiled. “Lucky me.”