Fnaf Springtrap Toy Novels & Stories

Text messages poured in, and my phone lagged, freezing at the chat interface with Greyson. Greyson: [You're disgusting! Don't return to the Tromp family anymore! I'll tell them about your affairs!] [I feel dirty to have ever slept with you!] I wanted to explain, but I found it useless after typing a long explanation. Greyson would never believe me, so I deleted word by word. After a while, a call came in, and I subconsciously picked up. The unfamiliar male voice was extremely vulgar. "How much for one night? I've seen your photos, and I'm satisfied!"

He raises his brows in question. ‘I bought a new toy. Loser has to wear it for an entire day, winner controls the remote.’ Noah's grip doesn't change, but his heartbeat speeds up, and his eyes go dark green and interested. ‘What toy?’ he asks, thrumming with excitement. ‘Vibrating plug. It has three settings and the remote works over a range of about forty feet.’ He takes a shaky breath, pupils going huge. My kinky Omega loves the sound of that.

The vehicles were parked in a tight circle under a canopy of pine trees, and the supplies were laid out on tarps across the forest floor like the inventory of a war nobody wanted to fight. I spent the first hour sharpening weapons. Silver alloy blades, reinforced tips, the edges honed to a thinness that caught the firelight and threw it back in razor thin lines. My hands moved automatically, following a rhythm I had learned years ago, while my mind sat somewhere else entirely.

Jenna scrambled after him on all fours, the tug on her nipples sending sparks of pain-pleasure with every movement, her welts screaming as they dragged across the carpet. Dean’s “playroom” was a converted office in his house, walls lined with whips, floggers, cuffs, a St. Andrew’s cross, and a padded bench equipped with restraints and a fucking machine. In the center, a gleaming metal cage big enough for a sub to kneel in. But Jenna’s eyes locked on the wall rack: dildos of obscene sizes, violet wands, electro-stim pads, and a row of collars, each more intricate, symbolizing escalating ownership.