Talk Dirty To Me

Mistress Irony had rules. Clear ones. Dress like a whore, get treated like one. Giselle knew that. She broke it anyway. The second Irony saw her, the air snapped tight. Giselle begged. Cried. Swore she’d never do it again. Irony didn’t blink. The words slid off her like rain on glass. Giselle felt the choice slip away. The only thing left was to take what was coming.