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)
The voice irritated him, and he quickly shoved it back down, calmed as she climbed up onto the couch and allowed him to take her into his arms. Her smile faded as he pulled her close, but she snuggled docilely against him, her eyes closed. She belonged to him now. There was no going back. He leaned down proprietarily, kissing the top of her head, confident she would do anything he asked of her now—anything at all.
A light snow had begun to fall outside the window in the deepening twilight. Mark glanced down at his naked slave, his cock rising with a sudden sadistic idea. How far was Alana truly willing to suffer for him?
Not that she had a choice. It was the grace with which she accepted his devised tortures that attracted him. Submission with grace could almost equal love, he told himself.
“Alana,” he said, dropping his arm from around her shoulders and turning to face her. “Let’s go outside.”
“Outside?” she repeated stupidly, though he could understand her confusion. In the months since he’d saved her, she hadn’t left the confines of his house, not even to step into the fenced-in backyard.
“Yes,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling her upright. “It’s the first snow. I always love the first snow, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she agreed, her face suddenly alight with expectation.
He led her to the bedroom, where he pulled on corduroy pants, a long-sleeved undershirt and a thick pullover sweater.
Alana, waiting on her knees, said finally, “Excuse me, Sir. May I speak?”
“You may.” Mark sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and boots.
“May I dress myself, Sir? To go outside, I mean.” She was, of course, aware of the clothing he’d bought for her, as it hung on one of the racks in the closet where he still sometimes confined her to the cage when she was naughty. He’d taken to keeping her naked all the time, however, seeing no point in covering all that beauty, even for a second.
“Hmm,” he said slowly, as if considering the question. “No, I don’t think so. We’ll just be in the backyard. You’ll be fine as you are.”
She looked confused. “But it’s cold and—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Do you have a problem with that, cunt girl?” He hadn’t called her that in a while, and she knew it signaled his displeasure.
Abruptly, she pressed her lips together, her face coloring as she wrapped her arms around her torso.
“I asked you a question, cunt girl.”
“No Sir,” she whispered, aware that was the only correct response.
Mark’s cock hardened with sadistic anticipation. This was going to be fun.
He decided to let her wear the pair of rain boots he kept by the back door. Even in oversized, black rubber boots, she still looked sexy as hell.
He led her out the back door to the secluded backyard. The snow had stopped, and the first few stars were starting to prick the sky. Though he didn’t feel cold at all, their breath was visible on the air. Alana wrapped her arms around her naked body and shivered, but she didn’t complain.
Mark led her to the shed at the back of the yard. He retrieved the key from beneath some old bricks on the side of the building, and opened the padlock that held the doors closed. Taking several coils of rope from wall hooks, he handed them to Alana. “Carry these and follow me,” he instructed.
He had her stop between two trees that were spaced about five feet apart. “Spread your legs and hold out your arms like a human X,” he told her. He waited until she obeyed. Then he quickly and expertly tied slipknots around her thighs and wrists, and pulled the ropes tight, wrapping them around each fat trunk.
He stepped back, thrilled by the sight. Alana’s nipples were like hard little marbles in the puckered circles of her areolas. She was shivering, her skin flushed pink in its effort to warm itself. But not one word of protest had been uttered, not one entreaty.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “You need to be punished, just for being so fucking beautiful.” Yes. She did need it. And he would oblige.
Mark ran back to the house and returned with a heavy flogger. Slowly, sensually, he began to caress her body with the leather thongs, warming her flesh with each stroke. Gradually he built up the intensity until she began to gasp and pant, her breath rasping in her throat. He covered her body, moving around the trees so he could focus first on her back, then on her front, whipping her flesh with the soft leather until she was jerking and writhing in her restraints, gasping and crying out when the tips of leather caught her across the nipple, or between her spread legs.