The Rookie Mistress

Who’d have guessed sweet Nikky Thorne would claim the whip herself? Estelle never did—not until the door swung wide and she met those dark eyes instead of Mandy’s polished smirk or Katy’s icy calm. Nikky stepped closer, still learning the rhythm but already hungry for it. She sank her teeth straight into the part she wanted. Before Estelle could draw breath, leather kissed flesh again and again; every snap sharpened by a woman learning how much she enjoys making someone break. Estelle twisted, wrists bound, thighs slick, heart hammering under the single bright sting that grew steadily louder than her thoughts. Nikky watched every twitch with newborn fascination, let the strap linger on heated skin, then struck once more, harder, richer—until the room itself seemed to throb around them.