By 1 am, I’d completed the entire sheet and was squirming in my seat from the fantasies it inspired. At least it was finished and I could have a little date with my vibrator before bed. Except…

Damn it. Their stupid rules. I wasn’t supposed to masturbate without permission, and again the question sprang to my mind: how would they even know?

I saved the pages to my phone and attached them in the group chat Vincent had set up, along with the message: If this list ever gets in front of anyone else’s eyes besides you four, I WILL KILL YOU.

I left my phone on my desk, locked my door, and rummaged under my bed for the box I hid my sex toys in. It wasn’t a particularly large collection, but well-used. Usually, I didn’t feel such a thrill when I opened the box, but knowing I was doing this against their orders made it feel particularly naughty.

My ass was still sore from the last spanking I’d gotten, yet I was prepared to break a rule already. I should have warned them that rules and I didn’t get along.

My phone buzzed again, and I sighed. I should have guessed at least one of the boys would be awake. I snagged my vibrator from the box and tossed it on the bed, flopping down among my pillows before I checked the text. It was from Manson.

Our customer’s proprietary information is of the utmost importance to us. Your dirty little secret is safe.

Staring at the screen, I imagined him looking over the list. I’d been brutally honest, even for the kinks I never thought I’d admit to liking. I’d felt wildly brave while filling it out, but now that it was out of my hands, I was nervous.

When do I get to see your lists? I feel like it’s only fair I get some blackmail material on you too. I responded.

A text from Lucas came through. It isn’t blackmail if we’re not afraid of it getting out. If the public wants to know how I fuck, that’s fine with me.

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. It was easy to imagine Lucas loudly declaring exactly what he liked to anyone who would listen.

To my surprise, Manson responded with an attachment. Then Lucas, then Jason. Then Jason again, with the message: This one is Vince’s. He’s at work.

I vaguely recalled that Vincent worked as a bartender, but I wasn’t sure where. I opened up Manson’s attachment first, unable to resist skimming through the list. My thighs squeezed a little tighter together as my eyes widened, and I found myself pinching my lower lip as I read. Every time I found our interests to be similarly aligned, there was a little throb in my chest as if my heart had jumped in excitement.