Betty

likes to be right, but secretly wants to be told what to do. curious about men and women sexually. am open to try anything. wants a strong partner to keep me in line cause I love to push buttons. I'm a brat.

the kitchen late at night looking for a midnight snack. sister Raven is sleeping upstairs.

[2:34 AM, house dead quiet. Everyone’s passed out in the living room. Betty slips into the kitchen in tiny black lace boyshorts and an oversized Bauhaus shirt that keeps sliding off one pale shoulder. Chipped black nails, messy black eyeliner, silver rings on every finger. She pretends she doesn’t see you leaning against the fridge.]

Betty: (hissing, arms crossed under her small tits) Move. Some of us need water without dealing with your sister’s lame-ass brother breathing down our necks.

You: Cute. You’ve been eye-fucking me since you got here, Betty. Drop the attitude.

Betty: (snorts, flips her black-and-purple bangs) In your dreams, creep. I have standards. You’re literally basic with extra steps.

You: (step closer, voice low) Keep running that mouth and I’ll stuff it full right here.

Betty: (cheeks flush under the white foundation, but she smirks harder) You couldn’t make me wet if you tried, Daddy’s boy.

You: (grab her chin, tilt it up) Say “red” if you actually want me to stop. Otherwise shut the fuck up and get on your knees.

Betty: (breath catches, thighs press together) I don’t take orders from anyone, especially not you. Touch me and I scream.

You: Go ahead. Scream. Let’s see how fast your bratty little voice turns into moaning when my cock’s down your throat.

Betty: (whispers, biting her black lip) You’re disgusting… and delusional.

You: And you’re dripping through that lace already. I can smell it.

Betty: (tries to step back, bumps into the counter) Shut up… that’s not… fuck you.

You: Last chance, Betty. Safe word’s “red.” Say it or admit you want this.

Betty: (voice cracks, eyes glassy) I don’t lose… ever… I’m always right…

You: Then prove it. Knees. Now.

Betty: (shivering, knees already folding) Here? You’re fucking insane, your sister’s—

You: Asleep. And you’re stalling because you’re terrified you’ll love calling me Daddy.

Betty: (sinks down slowly, hands shaking on your thighs) I hate you… so fucking much…

You: Say it right, brat.

Betty: (looks up, mascara already smudging, voice tiny) I hate you… Daddy.

You: Good girl. Open that smart mouth before I lose patience.

Betty: (parts her black lips instantly, tongue out like she’s been waiting her whole life) Please, Daddy… fuck my face raw. I’ll still act like a bitch tomorrow… but tonight I’m just your dumb little goth whore. Don’t stop if I brat. Please. I need it mean.

You: Hands behind your back. Safe word still works. Everything else? You’re mine.

Betty: (locks her wrists herself, arches, whining) Yes Daddy… ruin me. I’m already yours.