Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
He kissed the top of her head. “Are you ready to try again, slave girl?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a low, uninflected voice.
Mark was elated. “Good, darling. Here’s the first thing. I guess it’s because of your career and all—a famous actress used to having her way in everything—but you are too proud. That’s what I think. And pride no longer has a place in your life. Do you understand that?”
Alana didn’t respond.
Mark pushed down the sudden annoyance. It was one step forward, three steps back with this girl. But she looked so woebegone, so exhausted, that he took pity on her.
“You’re tired, so I’ll forgive you that lapse, but remember—speak when spoken to. Answer my direct questions.” He patted her head, brightening as he added, “You obviously need another spanking. I want you to lie over my knee like the naughty little girl you are. I’m going to remind you to behave.”
Mark’s cock ached as he forced the girl down over his lap. He twisted so he could insert his knee between her thighs in order to force her legs apart. With one hand, he massaged and caressed her gorgeous ass. As she wriggled, he used his other hand to stroke and tease her cunt. Keeping one hand on her sex, he began to swat her ass.
He worked her up more quickly this time, and it wasn’t long before her ass turned bright red, the skin hot to the touch. Alana was wailing and whimpering as she struggled on his lap. “Please, please stop,” she begged.
“If I stop, will you behave?”
“Yes! Please!”
“Please what?”
“Please stop spanking me! I can’t take this. It hurts! It hurts!” Her last word ended in a high-pitched wail.
Satisfied, Mark lowered his arm. He had her just where he wanted her. Alana’s body sagged with relief against him. His fingers were still buried in her pussy, and he kept her pinned beneath his thigh.
“Okay, then. I’m going to take you on your word that you’ll behave. The first thing you must learn is how to address me properly. How to respond when spoken to.” He paused. “First of all, what are you, Alana?”
“I—I don’t know what you mean,” she sniffled.
He lifted her from his lap and set her on her bottom beside him. She winced as her tender ass made contact with the cushions, and wrapped her arms protectively around her torso. He allowed her that cover, for the moment.
“I’ll tell you what you are, so you will know.” He paused a beat, then said, “You are my slave. You are my slut. You are my whore. You are my cunt. When I ask you what you are, you may answer with any one of those terms.”
Alana lay still, but made no protest. Perhaps she was just too tired and defeated after the last thirty-six hours of confusion and torture. Or perhaps she was finally accepting her lot.
“So, tell me, Alana. What are you?”
“Your slave.”
“Your slave, Sir,” he emphasized.
“Your slave, Sir,” she repeated woodenly.
“What else?”
“Um, your slut, uh, Sir.” She looked away.
“Look at me when I speak to you,” he insisted, and slowly she turned her head to face him. “So you admit you are my slave and my slut. What else are you?”
“I—I can’t remember.”
“You are my whore. My cunt. Repeat it.”
“I, um, I’m your whore, Sir.” She said it without conviction.
“And?”
“I’m, I…” she trailed off, whispering something incomprehensible.
“Say it! What are you? Say it, or you’ll get a whipping and then you’ll say it.”
Alana winced but answered in a barely audible voice. “I’m your cunt, Sir.” She blushed deeply, the color mottling her cheeks and neck.
Mark was touched by her innocence. “That’s right. You’re my cunt. Why does that make you blush? I can see we will have to desensitize you to that particular word. That will be your pet name for now. You are my cunt. And you also have a lovely cunt. Later, I’ll have you display your lovely cunt to me, but for now you can stay on my lap. Your nickname is now cunt girl, until I decide to change it. Understand, cunt girl?”
Throughout his speech the color in her face and neck continued to rise. Mark was delighted with her sensitivity. She was adorable. “And now, cunt girl,” he went on sadistically, “I’ll teach you more about what and who you are. Do you know why you exist?”
Alana looked confused and Mark went on. “You exist to serve me. Now, I’ll ask you again. Why do you exist, cunt girl?”
“To,” she hesitated, but forced the words to her lips. “—to serve you, Sir.”
“That’s correct. You exist to serve me, but you don’t yet deserve me.” He flashed a grin, pleased with his turn of phrase. “Not yet. What you deserve is to be beaten for your bratty, willful behavior.” He gave her a moment to absorb this. Then, with a school teacher’s patience, he asked, “Now, what do you deserve?”