Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Not that I regret it. But, other than being the youngest recipient of the Avicennius grant, and a straight A student, and a dutiful daughter, who was I then?
Who am I now?
I run the brush through my hair. The woman in the mirror looks more serious now, but still calm. Of course she is. She doesn’t have a schedule. She has nothing to do but look beautiful and follow Master’s commands.
I envy her.
It could be like this forever.
I grip the edge of the countertop. No, I can’t think that. Is that what I want? To be Logan’s slave? His plaything?
But I’m more than a plaything. Isn’t that what I just realized? It’s not a one-way street.
I look myself in the mirror and I’m finally honest with myself: I’m not here for the patents. Whatever Logan’s motives, I’m here because I got a taste of being awake and alive, and I can’t go back.
Was your old life so much better anyway? The beauty in the mirror looks me straight in the eye. Well? Was it?
A company on the brink of collapse. A father who loves me only as an extension of his own scientific accomplishments. A fiancé I never wanted.
Still, it’s not like I can just give all that up, can I? Walk away from my responsibilities?
Were they your responsibilities in the first place? Was it your life? Your choice?
Yes. Everything I worked for, everything I was—I wanted. My heart starts beating quicker at all the rebellious thoughts. Right?
A sharp knock has me scurrying out of the bathroom. By the time I open the door, Logan is gone. Either that, or little elves delivered a cart with a silver, covered breakfast tray to my door. I roll the cart inside, my stomach clenching at the smell of bacon.
When I remove the cover, a note falls to the floor. My daily instructions.
After you eat, open the box by your bed.
I’m too curious to wait. Munching on a strip of bacon, I head to the bedside table where, sure enough, Logan left a plain black box, a bit bigger than the kind fancy chocolates might come in. It could hold anything.
As soon as I open it and see the gleaming metal, I know. My stomach swoops and my heart starts to beat faster.
Each butt plug is numbered strangely. 11:00-12:00. 13:00-14:00. 15:00-16:00. And the largest: 19:00. Times of the day, I realize. I’m to wear each one for an hour, graduating in size. This is my only task for the day.
Under the box is a final note. Meet me in the dungeon at 19:30.
The dungeon. Unf. My pussy clenches. I pick up the smallest butt plug and grimace at my distorted reflection.
But it’s immediately followed by a thrill of excitement.
Tonight, Logan claims all of me.
He left a final note with further instructions with my lunch. I could walk down the stairs to the dungeon. But as soon as I passed through the heavy doors, I had to crawl.
But he laid out a carpet. Red. Strewn with rose petals.
A second before I cross the threshold, I drop to my knees. I can’t describe what it feels like, the dirty thrill I feel at lowering myself to the ground. It’s dirty and sexy and when I crawl seductively, I can feel his eyes on me almost like a physical thing. Can he see the large plug in my ass from this angle? Gods, I never knew there could be such power in being on my knees.
I crawl until Logan’s feet come into view. They’re bare, roped with veins and dusted with dark hair. He’s seated on a huge throne-like chair, the grandly carved wood dark with age. A king in his castle.
I settle myself on my knees before him and wait. Seconds tick by like years.
“Did you follow my instructions like a good girl?” His voice is a throaty growl.
I dare then to look up. “Yes, Master.”
His eyes gleam. “Up.” He indicates the table in the center of the room. With a shaky sigh, I rise and climb onto the leather-padded top. Sitting like a patient waiting for a doctor, bare ass naked.
Except this patient has a huge butt plug stretching her sphincter. I subtly lean on one hip.
“On your back,” Logan orders, and leaves his throne to collect items from a cabinet.
Deep breath. I lay back and try to relax. As if this is a pap smear or some sort of similar torture.
Sessions with Logan have a big advantage over a regular doctor’s visit, though. There’s more pain, but way more chance of orgasms.
I school my face into a blank expression as Logan returns, rolling some sort of cart with him. His shadow falls over me and my leg twitches. I shift on the table, trying to get comfortable with the biggest butt plug I’ve ever worn stuffed inside me. I might not know what’s coming, but that’s always been part of the thrill, hasn’t it?