Cupids contract, p.1
Cupid's Contract, page 1
Cupid's Contract
S.N. Moor
Copyright © 2023 by S.N.Moor
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This means placing my book on a pirate site. If you do, I wish you death by 1,000 papercuts and curse you and your cum maker, be it a dick or a vagina. May you never orgasm for the rest of your life.
Contents
. Chapter
Warnings
1. “It’s a Cupid party.”
2. Whammo Blammo
3. Pink drinks are dangerous
4. When he can’t hear the word no, put him in his place.
5. Don’t push the intercom button when you’re getting off in the shower.
6. When and when not to moan
7. When you need that dick and all your boyfriends are charged up.
8. When they kiss you like that…
9. Rules were meant to be broken
10. Old Fashioned’s and Contracts
11. I prefer penii not penises
12. “Just say sir and I’ll give you the goddamned world on a platter”
13. I will not masturbate at work
14. Never try to go toe to toe with a dom in a salad shop
15. Cliterati for the win
16. Tomato Tomato
17. Hashtag WendyDick
18. Whipped Cream, not just for food
19. Unexpected Visitors
20. PPE… not personal protection equipment…
21. When you’re playing Hide and Seek as adults, it’s bound to end in a good time
22. So long Vanillaville
23. Good ol’ Betty for the win
24. NDA for an NDA
25. The Ending
26. Bunnies and Bowties
27. It's hard finding good help, or a charged vibrator
28. Don’t be a bridezilla or a cunt bag
29. You should never kiss a stranger in the dark
30. Making up... for lost time
. Chapter
To all the smutty social media groups that give women a place to find the word porn that tickles their fancy without fear of judgement. Who create a safe space and don't yuck someone's yum. You are the cliterati, a group of well read, smutty fuckers who always come through in a clutch. The ones, when someone asks for a rec on squid love, monster smut, feathers or three dicks, have books at the ready. You are amazing and should be appreciated!
Warnings
This is a reverse harem/why choose holiday romance. If you like it spicy, then welcome, welcome. Find a seat, grab your toys, grab a page holder in case you feel the need for the one handed read.
You will find DVP, TP, anal, throat grabbing, dom/sub, praise, kick ass female, a spunky, fun-loving bestfriend, and an unexpected ending. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you need more explanation then click here.
“It’s a Cupid party.”
Fuck me.
I glanced across my display of battery operated boyfriends, BOB for short, and they were all on life support. My favorite, the bright green one, with a large ripply shaft and little nubs on the end, was the worst off. My best friend, Lizzy, bought it for me when I was going through a monster smut kick. She thought it would make me feel like I was fucking a monster.
I guess I won’t be using any of you tonight! I grabbed my phone off the dresser and flipped open the Let’s Mingle app. At Christmas, I signed up for a one year subscription because I was drunk and the ad rhymed. Jingle, Jingle, Let’s Mingle!
I’m a sucker for ads that rhyme. And gift with purchase. It could explain why I have a bar cabinet full of random liqueurs and fifty different martini glasses. Christmas is the best time of year to buy alcohol because of all the deals. Did I need all that liquor? No. But I was sad and wanted to be drunk. My favorite is the no stem martini glass with a pair of beady eyes at the bottom looking at you. Seriously, what was I thinking?
As soon as the app opens, the bubble beside my name turns green and my phone dings.
Eight new matches.
I quickly flip through them all, but nothing catches my eye. I close the app and dial Lizzy, who picks up on the first ring.
“Bitch, you were supposed to call two hours ago!” She yells into the phone, bass thumping loudly behind her.
I pulled the phone away from my ear for a second. “I’m calling now.”
“Are you coming tonight?”
“I hope so.” I look longingly at Bob, Bob, Bob, and Bob.
“What? To the Valentine’s party.” She yells again, before she lets out a squeal. “Tony says you should totally come. He has a friend he wants you to meet.”
I rolled my eyes. That was the entire reason I didn’t want to go play third wheel at whatever club they were at. Not only did I think it was a stupid holiday created by jewelry companies to squeeze money out of men who were buying jewelry to apologize for not being present enough the rest of the year, but I didn’t want to be set up.
I was old enough I should be in a stable, committed relationship, but that didn’t really seem like it was in the future for me. The longest relationship I had was my last, which was fourteen months. I really thought we were going somewhere, and apparently he did too, with three other women. It’s been six months since our official break up, so now I’ve become the natural pet project for most of my friends and Lizzy, being the biggest pusher of them all.
Her and Tony have been in a relationship for three months and one day. I know this because we had to go out yesterday for her to find a special outfit for their three-month anniversary. We ended up at Le Rousso’s, the local kink shop, because she wanted something extra spicy. When she caught me looking at their vibrator collection, she tried to buy me another one, which I declined, but am now regretting. She then insisted I come to this Valentine’s party tonight.
I lied and said I had plans because I thought I did. I glared at my toys. Traitors!
“You know you don’t have to set me up. I’m totally fine being single right now. I love the fact I’m getting to meet people.”
“You were staring at a wall of dildos yesterday. How many people could you be meeting?” Fortunately, it seemed she had stepped outside because the music was quieter and she was no longer yelling.
“It’s always good to have variety.”
“Of men. Not dildo’s.”
“I beg to disagree.”
“Girl. Come on. I know you’re not doing anything tonight. You hate this holiday, so come and hang out with your friends and get wasted.”
“It’s a valentine’s party. You want me to go to a party celebrating the holiday I hate?”
She laughed. “When you say it like that, it does sound bad! I want you to come hang out with your BFF at a dance club and possibly go home with someone new. I’m just trying to help you get some. Isn’t that what a wing lady is supposed to do?”
“Fine. I’ll be there in a little bit. Text me the address.”
“Wait. You need to dress up.”
“Dress up?”
“Yes. It’s a cupid party.”
“What the fuck is a cupid party?”
She laughed that kind of laugh where you know you’re fucked. The kind of laugh where your best friend just roped you into some crazy shit they knew you wouldn’t like, so they made you agree to come before they told you all the details.
“Why am I still friends with you?”
“Because you love me and your life would be boring as hell without me in it.”
I shook my head, trying to figure a way out of this. “I don’t have an outfit.”
“Boo boo, do you think I would let you come unprepared? Go get the big red box from under your bed.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I shit you not.”
I put the phone on speaker and walked hastily to the edge of my bed, dropped to my knees, and pulled the large box out.
“Hurry. Open it! You’re going to love it.”
“I doubt it.”
“Stop, puss pants.”
I untied the red velvet bow and cautiously lifted the lid off.
“What the fuck am I looking at?”
I lifted the white feather trimmed bra and matching panties, white sheer slip looking thing and a pair of red wings.
“Is this a fucking sex party?”
“No. No. No. Not really. But you have to dress up to get in.”
“Like this?”
“Well, the men’s match, but with no shirts on, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
I dropped the items back into the box and rubbed my face.
“You ok, boo?”
“Why didn’t you tell me it was a Cupid party?”
“Because you’d say no.” She paused for only a second. “Tony’s friend is super hot and looking forward to meeting you.”
“Yay.” I said sarcastically.
“Get your ass over here!” The music in the background got louder, so she must have walked back inside.
“Fine. You owe me, though.”
“You can repay me with your orgasms.” She laughed out loud, the kind of laugh that you only do when you’re drunk and realize you said something wildly inappropriate, but you don’t care.
“Bye and please don’t drink too much.”
The line went dead.
I looked back at the box and picked the pieces up one at a time.
Here goes nothing.
Whammo Blammo
Thirty minutes later I was waiting for my ride share to pull up, dressed in the skimpiest outfit I’d worn in several years, with an inconspicuously conspicuous beige trench coat draped around me with a pair of red angel wings in my hand and six inch red stilettos on.
The light blue, four-door sedan pulled up two minutes later with a woman as old as my grandmother driving, with her hair in rollers and a daisy patterned top on. I checked the license plate with the app on my phone and the driver's picture matched.
Betty.
Of all the people I could have gotten, it would be a Betty. I was certain I was going to have the scripture read to me on the entire car ride to the club.
I climbed in the back seat and she confirmed the address of the club. She flipped on her blinker and slowly pulled onto the road, casting several curious glances my way. This was going to be the most awkward twenty-minute ride of my life.
Lizzy sent me a picture of her and Tony. Her large white wings were highlighted against her light brown skin and dark hair and Tony was on her arm, chest exposed, loving life. She looked so happy and I loved that for her. I just didn’t love she was in the dating stage where she tried to replicate her happiness in my life. She’s already told me she was going to marry this guy, which seems a bit premature, but she’s certain. And one thing about Lizzy is she always gets her way. I looked at the wings on the seat. Case in point. And the three times I’ve met Tony, he seemed over the moon with her too, so hopefully it worked out. She’d had some real assholes in the past, so I’d be ecstatic if she found her Prince Charming.
“Big plans tonight?” Betty asked with a deep southern accent, gripping the steering wheel.
“A party.” Keep it simple.
She nodded and hummed. Yea Betty, I too would be wondering what kind of party I was going to.
“I did that once.” She blurted, without reservation.
“Go to a party?”
She hesitated for a second. “Yes. A party.”
You little wild child Betty, I teased to myself.
“Then the cops were called.”
“Oh.” My neck jerked back in surprise. Shit.
“Yea. They caught me snorting coke off a penis.”
I choked. What the fuck, Betty? Not at all where I saw this story going.
“Sorry if that was too much. I just figured, you know. With you dressed like that… going to a party and all.”
“No, no. All good.” I pinched my arm to make sure I hadn’t somehow hit my head and was passed out at my house. “What… happened?” Dare I ask… Yes, I dare. I very fucking much dare. Betty has surprised me and now I need to know more about her party.
She noticeably relaxed. “Well, I stopped going to parties. Scared me straight. I was rebelling against my father. He was our town’s local preacher.”
I swallowed hard and then looked around the car for hidden cameras. I felt like I was being punked right now. “So you never went to another party again because of the one?”
“Well, no. I wasn’t allowed to.”
“You weren’t allowed to go to anymore parties? Can they do that?” I felt bad for Betty. One time getting caught snorting coke off a penis and bam! No more parties!
“Well, yea. I suppose they can.” She shook her head like I had asked a stupid question, but there was clearly something I was missing. “Anyway, I settled down and found a real nice man who takes real good care of me now.”
I looked around again, certain I’d missed the cameras on the first pass. I felt like there were large chunks… important chunks, missing from her story.
“Is it just you? It’s not safe to be going to parties alone.”
I couldn’t help but feel parties was a code word for something else. “No. There’s… I don’t know how many people are there, but I would have to guess a lot. It’s at a club. I’m meeting my best friend there with her boyfriend.”
“Oh, that’s trouble.”
“What is?”
“You should never mix personal and business. That’s what did me in.”
I shook my head, not knowing where the story was going again. “How so?” But I couldn’t stop. I had to know more.
“Well, Darlene thought it’d be fun to have me over for a party for her and her boyfriend. They had a couple other friends over, but it was Darlene’s boyfriend's birthday and she wanted to do something real special for him.”
“Seems nice.”
She huffed. “I told her. I said, Darlene. Now listen. This ain’t a good idea. But Darlene, she didn’t listen. Put us two in a room together, turned the music on and, well, Darlene’s boyfriend thought it was a different kind of present. I stripped for him and what not, had me about three beers too many and next thing you know.” She hit the steering wheel. “You guessed in. Cock out, me on my knees snorting coke. Darlene’s neighbors called the police on us and, apparently, Darlene’s boyfriend had locked the door when I wasn’t looking. So they bust in, thinking I was a hooker. I mean, I guess I kind of was, but only the one time.”
“Wow.”
“Yea. Didn’t speak to Darlene for a while after that. She was mad at me and I’s mad at her.”
“That was unfair to you.”
“Heck yeah, it was. I was just trying to do my friend a favor and whammo blammo.”
“Whammo blammo for sure.” Note to self: don’t get locked in a room with Tony and snort coke off his cock.
I stared out of the window, trying to process the twists and turns of that conversation, when we pulled up to the club a few minutes later. I stepped out of the car, but she called me back.
“Listen here. I’ve left that life behind me, but if you need me, you keep my number handy. I’ll come get you. Us ladies of the night have to stick together.” She nodded with a stone cold serious look on her face.
She thought I was a hooker. “Oh. I’m not a hooker.”
“Me either.” She winked.
Pink drinks are dangerous
I watched Betty take off down the road and was beginning to second guess this whole thing. I looked at Betty’s business card in my hand before I stuffed it in my little purse.
I felt so ridiculous right now. It had been a while since I dressed in anything that one could call sexy and paraded around in front of a bunch of strangers. My confidence was completely shot after my ex, but I kept reminding myself this was for Lizzy. I had to show her I was ok, even if I didn’t fully believe it myself. Fake it, ‘til you make it?
Valentine’s Day was still four days away, but I already felt like it was suffocating me.
I glanced at the long line of people standing against the wall waiting to get in; some dressed in more clothes than me, but most in less. Which was saying a lot.
“Everlee!” I heard yelled from my left.
Lizzy was standing behind a rather large bouncer, waving at me. I looked to my right and saw the long line of people and then back to her.
“Come over here!” She yelled, bouncing up and down.
I walked over to her, and the bouncer looked me up and down, then moved the rope out of the way. I ignored the moans and groans from people still bouncing impatiently outside, no doubt cold from the winter air.
“What took you so long?”
“I had to get dressed and catch a ride. Not everyone lives down the street from the hot new club.”
She batted her hand, ignoring me, and started untying the knot on my jacket.
“Well, if I knew you felt this way about me.” I teased, shrugging the jacket off.
“Girl, you know I’d fuck you. I just didn’t think you’d go for it.”
I blew a breath from my nose and caught her smile, before she turned and handed my jacket to the attendant at the front desk, grabbing a ticket from them.
“Here. Don’t lose this.”
Ticket number sixty-nine, with a bar code on the bottom. I chuckled. What were the odds? Sixty-nine had been a running joke with us forever. We would set each other’s thermostat to sixty-nine, may or may not have rounded a number or percentage to sixty-nine for work presentations, or gave an extra tip to round up to sixty-nine dollars. General immature shenanigans, but it always made us chuckle, and I loved it.
