**Chapter 1: Under the Spotlight**
The stage lights burned hotter than a lover’s gaze, searing into my skin as I stood there, vulnerable in a skirt so short it barely qualified as clothing and a top that clung to my curves like a desperate whisper. The bunny ears perched on my head weren’t just for show—oh no, they were wired to mess with my mind, sending little zaps of compliance through my brain every time someone toyed with them. And toy with them they did.
“And looking fine in her short short skirt, an almost-there top, and those fancy bunny ears, it’s everyone’s favorite competitor, Jeannie!” Nigel, the smarmy compere, announced with a grin that could charm the devil himself. The crowd roared, their cheers a mix of lust and mockery. I shot a glare at the audience, my lips curling into a scowl—until Nigel’s finger grazed one of my ears. A fuzzy wave of obedience washed over me, softening my edges, melting my defiance. Damn it. I hated how easily my body betrayed me.
Then came Camille. Tall, fierce, and unapologetic, her dark skin glowed under the lights as she strutted onto the stage. Last round, she’d teased me to the brink of madness, her touch a promise of ecstasy I hadn’t yet tasted. Now, as she was introduced, her eyes locked onto mine, a predator sizing up her prey. She stepped close—too close—and ran a lingering finger from the base of my ear to its tip. Another pulse of compliance hit me, and I bit my lip to keep from showing how much it rattled me.
“Miss me, bunny?” Camille purred, her voice a velvet blade. “I’ve been thinking about how good you’d look on your knees.”
I forced a smirk, fighting the haze in my head. “Keep dreaming, Camille. I’m not your pet—yet.” My words were sharp, but that flutter in my belly betrayed me, a traitor whispering that maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be.
Nigel’s voice cut through the tension. “Viewers at home, don’t forget you can phone in to offer ‘gifts’ to your favorite competitor. And Jeannie, let’s not forget Camille has offered to take you home and train you as her little pet.”
The audience erupted in laughter, and Camille’s grin widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. My cheeks burned, but that damn flutter grew stronger, a heat pooling low in my core. I had to focus. I had to win.
“The first game,” Nigel announced, “will be nice and simple. First, one woman will complete a jigsaw, then the other. Fastest time wins—and gets to play with the loser for as long as the loser takes extra to finish.”
Simple, sure. Through the fog in my brain, it made sense. Camille went first, her fingers deft as she pieced the puzzle together with a respectable time. Beatable. I could do this. I stepped up to the table, determination steeling my spine—until I felt her behind me. Camille’s presence was a storm, her hand snaking around to rest on my neck, her breath hot against my ear.
“No! Let me do the puzz—uulll…” My protest trailed off into a pathetic whimper as her other hand stroked my ears, long and deliberate. Two strokes, and my mind was melting, compliance dripping through me like honey.
“What’s the matter, Jeannie?” Camille teased, her voice low and taunting. “Do you need to tell me to do something? Be assertive, bunny. Or are you too busy getting wet for me?”
I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to lean back into her warmth, to let her take control. “Screw you, Camille. I’m not your toy,” I snapped, but my voice wavered, and I knew she heard it. That flutter in my belly was a full-on storm now, my body aching with a need I refused to name. Her teasing amplified every sensation, her touch a spark threatening to ignite me. I focused on the puzzle, my hands trembling as I forced the pieces together, but her fingers never stopped their merciless game with my ears.
“Keep fighting, sweetheart,” she whispered, her lips brushing my neck. “It’ll make it so much sweeter when you break.”
My breath hitched, my resolve crumbling as heat surged through me, pooling between my thighs. I was dripping for her, and she knew it. The crowd was watching, the cameras zooming in, and I was on the edge of losing more than just this game. If I didn’t finish this puzzle soon, I’d be hers to play with—hers to command. And as much as I hated to admit it, part of me was already panting for it.
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