Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I stared at him, my cheeks burning like a furnace. Bad language wasn’t a thing for me—in terms of using it, anyway. I just didn’t, and I didn’t like to hear it. I’d never known why it made me so uncomfortable. It seemed especially odd given that, as the awful Mr. Alden had apparently learned somehow, I had proven myself willing to take naughty pictures of myself in racy lingerie.
I just didn’t use swear words, though, and I didn’t like it when other people did. I never made a fuss about it—I considered myself reasonably strong-willed and very independent, but why try to get other people to stop saying the kind of obscenities that made me blush, rather than just avoiding those people?
I didn’t know why Mr. Alden suddenly talking about my private parts and his… his manhood had struck me so hard. I realized that before this last, most obscene statement he had casually mentioned—more than once—his plans to have sex with me. He had used the f-word as if it were just a regular verb. For some reason that hadn’t bothered me in the same way. Maybe my reaction had concerned itself entirely with trying to figure out what kind of joke he was trying to make, or what kind of test he intended to administer. Maybe he just hadn’t said it while standing so close to me, my back against the locked door and my hands held out in front of my chest to defend myself.
With him gazing directly into my face, though, the cornflower blue eyes in his gorgeous, masculine face narrowing a little as he gauged my response, I seemed to get the full effect of his filthy words. Break your tight little pussy in properly with my cock. My face had flooded with heat, and I let out a little sob as I realized that down between my thighs my body had decided to let me in on an extremely unwelcome secret. The reason I avoided bad language clearly lay in its potential to arouse me in ways I didn’t enjoy.
I felt my brow furrow deeply. I knew I had just tried—valiantly, I thought—to tell myself a bald-faced lie. I did enjoy it. I enjoyed it way, way too much. So much that the raging conflict between my mind and my body forced tears to spring, practically, from the corners of my eyes.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Please… I don’t want…”
“Shh, sweet Ingrid,” Mr. Alden said, his voice low and soothing, the kind of voice an animal trainer uses to calm a frightened creature who’s forgotten that her real purpose is to serve him. “Shh. You don’t want it now. But you most definitely need it now. And you’re going to get it. All of it.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, as I felt myself clench down there and my hips jerk mortifyingly. My still-smarting bottom pressed so hard into the door that it rattled in its jamb.
“Here,” he said, holding the silvery thing up a little higher, almost level with my face, and reaching it out a few inches more, so that I could see it clearly in his beautifully manicured hand. It was three or four inches long, oblong, its surface as reflective as a mirror’s. It had a button, it looked like, where Mr. Alden’s thumb rested. “This will help.”
As I blinked, and before I could react, he pressed the thing gently against the side of my neck. I heard a click and I felt a kind of tingle travel through my whole body. It made me jump, but it didn’t hurt and in fact, rather to my dismay, it felt good, almost like a massage.
Mr. Alden pulled the device away, gazing into my eyes as he replaced it in his inside breast pocket. I felt my own eyes go wide as I realized that something had changed inside me—in my mind, or in my body, I couldn’t tell at first, and then I thought that maybe the change had happened in the connection between them somehow.
I tried to marshal my thoughts to give an exact name to what the little wand thing had done, but my brain seemed to go off onto a different track from the one I wanted it to travel.
“Ingrid,” Mr. Alden said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. “Go over to the desk and bend over it, just like you were before, on your elbows. I’m going to paddle you now. You may not speak unless I give you explicit permission.” He stepped back, as if to let me follow his instructions.
I had something like a nanosecond of confusion, as the rational part of my mind tried to figure out why he would just repeat himself like that, when I had made it so very clear that I had no intention of obeying him without compulsion. Then, as if they belonged to someone else, my legs started to move.