Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“No one knew?” he asked.
“No. No one knew. And once I was in that apartment . . . there was no getting out of that web. That’s when he told me that he was a Dominant. A Daddy Dom. And he thought I was a Little. There had been moments . . . times when he’d do things I thought were strange. Like one night, he wanted to feed me. I wasn’t allowed to use my hands. He cut up everything, fed me, wiped my face, and scolded me when I refused to eat something. Another time, before I moved in with him, when I’d done badly on a test, he asked me if I wanted to go home or spend time in the corner. I felt embarrassed, so I went home and he didn’t speak to me for several days. I was so beside myself that I . . . that I sent him a text and told him I’d accept corner time as a punishment next time. He was suddenly so warm and kind again.”
Fuck. He had completely manipulated her.
Who was this guy? She hadn’t said, but surely he could track him down. That’s what he did, and he was good at it.
He’d find the bastard.
Then he’d kill him.
How dare he do this to Bebe? To someone as wonderful and caring as her.
“Another time, he wanted me to sit and color. He said it was good exercise for the brain, that I seemed stressed, and that he wanted me to relax. I thought it made sense. Adult coloring is a thing, but he handed me a child’s coloring book. And I . . . I enjoyed it. In fact, I became so much into it that I didn’t hear him calling me for dinner and had to spend five minutes in the corner.”
She rubbed at her forehead. “I hated the corner. I never knew exactly how upset he was with me. If he’d be talking to me after. That was the worst . . . the silent treatment. It was such a relief to get out of the corner and find that he hadn’t stopped talking to me. I was so messed up. All I wanted was to please him, and I feared his disappointment. He never hurt me physically. He didn’t yell, but that silence would just wrap itself around my stomach and squeeze.”
“Baby, he did that to you. None of what happened was your fault. He manipulated you into depending on him. He created that fear inside you.”
“Wasn’t it partially my fault, though? See, the thing is, I knew I liked submitting in the bedroom. I’d had a boyfriend while I was overseas who was a Dom. That part wasn’t unknown to me. And when I decided to explore different parts of BDSM, Rhys took me to a club. So I’d heard about Littles and Daddies and Mommies. But I hadn’t ever thought that it might be something I would like. Until the asshole. He opened my eyes to that side of myself. And I liked it. I think more than he thought I would. In fact, looking back now, I almost wondered if he’d hoped I would fight him.”
“So he could punish you. Use it as a teaching lesson, or something else equally fucked-up. Another way to put you under his power and mold you into what he wanted you to be.”
“I think so. I was so into it that it almost seemed to annoy him.”
“And when he wasn’t happy with you, he’d push you away, turn cold and silent?”
“Yes. I used to hate that. It got to the point I would pretty much do anything he wanted to avoid the silent treatment.”
She flexed her hand. Was it hurting her? Another thought occurred to him and a flash of anger made him take a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He placed his hand lightly over hers. “Did he have something to do with this?”
“W-what do you mean?” she whispered.
“Your hand. Sometimes, it trembles and I’ve seen you wince before while using it. Do you have some sort of old injury? Was it him? Did he hurt you?”
“Ohh. You noticed that, huh? Uh, not directly.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Um, as well as the silent treatment and corner time, he was awfully fond of making me write things out. So if I got a bad grade on a test or something, he might make me write out a two-thousand-word essay on where I’d gone wrong or on the topic or something.”
“Jesus,” he muttered.
“Sometimes it would be after I’d already been typing or writing a lot, and my hand would spasm and cramp . . . but he . . . but he wouldn’t let me stop.” A sob escaped her. “He just kept pushing and pushing me.” She rubbed at her face with her other hand.