The Heart System

Chapter 402: Chapter 402

We ate in comfortable silence for a bit, the kind that didn’t feel awkward at all. Just forks, chewing, and the soft hum of the apartment around us.

“So,” Tessa said eventually, swallowing. “Long day?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Not bad, just… long. A lot of meeting thingies, a lot of nothing, somehow.”

She snorted. “That sounds about right.”

Minne nodded. “You looked tired when you came back, Master.”

Well, and a bit concerned…

“I am,” I admitted. “But this helps.”

Tessa leaned back slightly in her chair. “Work at TechForge still crazy? For me, it still is.”

“Yeah.” Nala agreed. “It is.”

“God, I still can’t use Excel.” Jasmine muttered. “It is so hard.”

“It’s calmer now,” I said. “At least on the surface. Still feels like I’m always waiting for something to explode, though.”

Kim raised an eyebrow. “Occupational trauma?”

“Something like that.”

Minne tilted her head. “Did something happen today?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Just one of those days where your brain won’t shut up.”

She seemed to accept that, even if she didn’t fully believe it.

Tessa picked at her vegetables. “I had a shift today too. But I survived. Yay.”

“High praise,” I said.

“I know. I might celebrate.”

Minne smiled softly. “I stayed home most of the day. Cleaned a little. Then I think I… fell asleep.”

My fork paused for half a second, but I kept my voice light. “You needed it.”

She nodded. “I guess so.”

The conversation drifted, easy and slow. Tessa talked about a rude customer she’d dealt with last week. Minne mentioned a new recipe she wanted to try. I listened, chimed in when it felt right, and kept eating until my plate was mostly clean.

For a while, it almost felt normal. No gods. No threats. No weird powers. Just dinner.

Eventually, I leaned back and let out a satisfied breath. “Alright,” I said. “I’m done.”

Minne looked up again. “Was it enough?”

“More than enough,” I said, smiling at her. “Thank you. Really.”

Her smile turned bright this time, proud and relieved all at once. “You’re welcome, Master.”

Tessa stretched her arms. “I’m going to regret eating this much later.”

“That’s a future problem,” I said.

After the table was cleared and Minne started gathering plates, I drifted into the living room. I dropped onto the couch, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. I lit it, the familiar burn grounding me as I leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a second.

Carrie popped into my mind without asking.

The text. The question mark. The way she always did that, like she was nudging my shoulder through the screen.

I exhaled smoke slowly, watching it curl toward the ceiling.

Footsteps approached, and Kim appeared beside the couch, arms crossed loosely. She glanced at the cigarette, then at me.

“You going to Carrie’s tonight?” she asked casually.

I shrugged, taking another drag. “Maybe.”

She looked around the dimly lit café corner as if checking for eavesdroppers, even though the place was nearly empty except for the bored barista wiping counters twenty meters away. Then she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear.

“Take me as well.”

“Take you?”

“Yes.” Her voice dropped lower, edged with something dark and eager. “I wanna be there when that bitch suffers.”

“Uh…”

Well… now that wasn’t something I was expecting. Not even the slightest bit. Kim wanted to come to the hotel and… watch me have sex with Carrie? That… yeah.

Well… could be interesting.

❤︎‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎

Later that night I stood at the hotel window, arms crossed, staring down into the street. The snow had finally quit an hour earlier, giving way to a heavy, drumming rain that turned the world outside into a smeared watercolor of neon signs and wet headlights. The room felt colder than it should have—cheap radiator clanking uselessly in the corner.

The door opened behind me with a soft click.

I glanced back over my shoulder. Carrie stepped inside, hesitated in the doorway like she might still turn and run. She reached up slowly, pulled off the wool hat, unwound the scarf that had been hiding half her face, then slipped her glasses off and folded them into her palm. Rain had darkened the ends of her hair; a few strands clung to her cheeks. She looked smaller than I remembered, shoulders hunched under the weight of the long coat.

She took one step forward and closed the door behind her. The lock clicked.

I leaned my hip against the window frame, kept my arms folded. “You’re wearing it?”

Carrie nodded once. Her face stayed carefully neutral, eyes fixed somewhere around my collarbone.

She shrugged out of the coat. It hit the carpet with a wet slap. Underneath…

Black leather straps and panels, glossy under the low lamplight. A full bondage harness that framed rather than covered—thin bands crisscrossing her ribcage, circling her heavy breasts so the nipples stood out bare and already pebbled in the cool air. The straps dipped low over her hips, leaving her ass completely exposed except for the wide, flared base of a thick black buttplug nestled deep between her cheeks. The front was open: pussy lips framed by leather, swollen and glistening even from across the room. Her belly curved soft and full, pale skin catching the light, stretch marks faint silver threads. No attempt at modesty. Just raw exposure.

I let my gaze drag over every inch of her, slow and deliberate. Then I grimaced. “Look at that fucking belly. You fat fuck.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, breathing shallow, waiting for whatever came next.

“Crawl here.”

She froze for a heartbeat—like the word had to travel all the way down her spine before her body obeyed. Then her knees bent. She dropped to the carpet, palms pressing flat, ass lifting slightly as she started forward on all fours. The plug shifted visibly with each movement, base catching the light. She moved carefully, deliberately, stopping an arm’s length away from my boots. Head bowed, breathing audible now.

I lifted one leg, planted the sole of my boot against her forehead—firm enough to hold her there, not enough to hurt yet. She didn’t resist. Just waited, trembling faintly under the pressure.

Then I pushed.

Not hard. Just enough. She toppled backward with a small gasp, landing flat on her back, legs splayed, breasts jiggling from the impact. The plug made a soft, muffled sound against the carpet as her ass hit.

I turned away without another word, walked to the single bed in the center of the room. A black duffel sat on the edge. I unzipped it, reached inside, pulled out the blindfold—wide strip of black silk, padded.

I tossed it. It landed on her stomach.

“Put it on.”

Carrie’s hands came up slowly. She hesitated, fingers brushing the fabric, then lifted it to her eyes. Tied it tight behind her head. Darkness complete. Her breathing sped up, chest rising and falling faster.

I looked down.

A small, dark spot had already formed on the carpet beneath her. A thin trail of wetness leaking from her open pussy, pooling slightly. I hadn’t laid a finger on her yet.

“Look at that,” I said, voice low and mocking. “You’re dripping like a cheap whore and I haven’t even touched you. Pathetic. That sloppy cunt’s crying for it already, isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. Just lay there blindfolded, legs slightly apart, waiting.

I crossed the room quietly, turned the handle, eased the door open a crack. A few seconds later footsteps came down the hallway. Kim appeared at the threshold, hood up against the rain, cheeks flushed from the cold and something else. She stepped inside. Her eyes went wide when she saw Carrie on the floor—naked except for the leather, blindfolded, exposed, plug glinting.

I closed the door slowly behind her. The lock clicked again.

“E-Evan?” Carrie’s voice cracked from the floor, small and uncertain.

I didn’t answer right away. Just shook my head at her tone.

“Evan?” I repeated, stepping closer to where she lay. “What do you really call me, bitch?”

Her lips parted. A shaky breath. “D-Daddy.”

I saw it—the fresh slickness that welled up between her thighs at the word, shining brighter under the lamp. Her pussy visibly clenched, another slow trickle escaping.

I shook my head again, almost amused.

Kim stayed a few feet away, hood still up, arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together. Her eyes flicked between Carrie on the floor and me—wide, dark, hungry. She didn’t speak. Just watched.

I took another step toward Carrie, boot nudging her thigh so her legs opened wider.

I dropped to my knees between her spread legs, the carpet rough against my shins. Carrie’s blindfold stayed tight; her breathing had turned shallow and quick, chest rising fast under the leather straps.

I hooked my hands under her knees, yanked her toward me in one firm pull. Her body slid easily across the floor until her thick thighs draped over my shoulders, weight settling heavy and warm. Her ass lifted slightly off the carpet, plug still buried deep.

My hands slid lower, palms cupping the soft, full cheeks. I found the wide base of the plug with my fingers, gripped it.

“Look at this greedy little hole,” I said low, voice rough. “Swallowing that fat plug like it’s nothing. You walked all the way here with it stretching you open, didn’t you? Bet you were clenching the whole time, trying not to leak all over your coat.”

Carrie whimpered, hips twitching involuntarily.

I pushed the plug deeper—just a slow press. She gasped sharp, body tensing, ass clamping down hard around the thickest part. Pain flickered across her blindfolded face, but she didn’t pull away.

“Too much?” I murmured, almost mocking. “Or just enough?”

I reversed direction then, pulling back slowly. Her rim stretched tight around the taper, clinging, resisting like it didn’t want to let go. The muscle fluttered, expanding and contracting visibly as the plug dragged out inch by inch, shining with lube and her own slick.

Then—pop.