Where is The Key?

Kenzie cleared laundry from Scarlett’s bed and froze. A half-empty tube of lube sat on the sheets. She turned the clothing pile again and a purple dildo thumped against her palm—thick, glossy, still smelling faintly of soap. Beneath the last folded shirt she touched cool steel: handcuffs. She shouted for her step-daughter. Scarlett stormed in, eyes wide when she saw her things lined up like evidence. “So you’re letting boys fuck you in this house?” Kenzie snapped. Scarlett’s voice rose, denial and anger tumbling together. Kenzie grabbed her wrist. “You love cuffs so much? I’ll show you how they work.” She clicked one bracelet around Scarlett’s wrist, looped the short chain behind the headboard slats, and snapped the second cuff shut. Scarlett kicked, but Kenzie climbed over her, fingers digging into soft ribs. Scarlett shrieked, hips jerking. The tickling moved lower—under her breasts, across her nipples, then straight to the waistband of her shorts. Kenzie yanked them down. Lacy black panties clung between Scarlett’s thighs. “Wearing these for company?” Kenzie said. Scarlett gasped the truth between laughs: not boys—girls. Kenzie paused, then bent and closed her lips around one nipple, sucking hard enough to make Scarlett moan. Her hand slid inside the panties, found slick heat, and stroked in slow circles. Scarlett tugged at the cuffs, breathing fast. Kenzie kissed lower, tongue tracing the smooth skin just above her slit. “Mother knows best,” she murmured, and Scarlett stopped fighting.