She dumped the bag onto the kitchen table and started sorting through it while he watched from the doorway. Candy corn, a half-melted chocolate bar, a couple of those cheap glow sticks, and one full-size candy bar she’d clearly stolen from someone else’s porch. Jenna held up the big bar and tilted her head. “This one costs extra,” she said. “You want it, you tell me exactly what you’re willing to do for it. And don’t say ‘anything’ — I already know you’re going to be my fucktoy phone sex tonight. I just want to hear you say it out loud while I decide the price.”

He started talking. She kept sorting. Every piece got a rule attached to it. The candy corn meant he had to edge for five minutes without touching. The glow sticks meant he had to describe her outfit in detail (tiny orange shorts, cropped hoodie, no bra) while she walked around the room. The stolen candy bar meant he had to call her Daddy’s girl and mean it. She liked the way his voice got tighter the longer she made him wait. Tease was half the fun. The other half was watching him try to stay in control while she stayed completely dominant.

What’s in the Bag

Jenna made a neat little pile of the good stuff and a separate pile of the junk. “You can have the junk for free,” she told him. “The good stuff costs. And the cost is you staying hard and obedient while I talk you through every single piece. No limits on how long I make this last. If you rush, I put everything back in the bag and we start over.” She described peeling the wrapper off the big bar in slow motion, then licking the chocolate off her fingers while she told him exactly how she wanted him to touch himself. Every time he got close she stopped him and added another rule. Edging was non-negotiable. So was calling her by the name she wanted.

By the time the bag was empty he was wrecked and the kitchen table was covered in wrappers. Jenna stayed on the line a little longer, voice smug and warm, telling him next year’s bag is already half full and he’s going to help her fill the rest. If you want a brat who turns trick-or-treat into a long, mean game of control, you know where to find me.

More of Jenna’s rules (and the rest of her schedule) are at thesincenter.com/Jenna.