Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
He could have whipped me with the birch until I had no choice but to offer every part of me for his most defiling, shameful touch and his deepest, most violent penetration—desperate not for pleasure but for the simple absence of the agony of my master’s brutal lessons in obedience.
Even more easily, if perhaps less straightforwardly, he could have taken advantage of the operation of the compliance wand—as he had in fact just done in commanding me to lay myself over the ottoman in the precise posture a man like Ivan Antonov would require of a fuck toy, in order to use her at his leisure. He hadn’t even had any need to make me spread open the helplessly wet lips of my untried cleft to show him the aching sheath where… where…
Where his huge, rigid cock belonged.
That part brought the most urgent wave of heat to my cheeks—and, dismayingly, down below too… right there… right where…
I gave a little sob as I heard soft sounds—little noises that could only be his footsteps, drawing near. I seemed to feel every inch of my skin so acutely I couldn’t think straight. The fire warmed my right side, but my left felt scarcely less scalded by the mingled mortification and arousal Ivan’s simple words had evoked in my heart, my mind… my soul, it suddenly seemed to me.
He would never have spoken those words if he didn’t want to take care of me. I tried desperately to puzzle out why that notion had taken such a strong hold of me. Had my awful treatment at the hands of my anonymous trainer somehow set me up for this? Did the Pretorian Guard mean me to be so susceptible to any man who showed me the slightest mercy?
No: the Guard didn’t even want me to think of Ivan Antonov as a person. They had prepared me to see him as a monster, a criminal just as responsible for my grandfather’s death and my grandmother’s unending grief as his predecessor. When they activated me, I was to use my position to get rid of my owner and then go immediately to my extraction point. After that, the Guard would reward me richly—they had already deposited the money in escrow, enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life.
All I had to do between now and then was endure the sexual servitude for which my shameful needs so mortifyingly qualified me.
But Ivan’s voice, his words, the way he loomed over me in front of the fire, not touching me but certainly looking down at me, his owned fuck toy… surely it meant something else for me, something more?
When you’re ready… the words sounded in my mind again, as if I spoke them to myself.
My little cunt. My master would come in my little cunt.
The Guard had given me a shot of the new annual contraceptive, so I didn’t have to fear the old-fashioned consequences of a dominant man’s lust. I had only my own reactions to his mastery to fear… the way my lewd needs betrayed all the values I thought my upbringing had instilled in me.
I had finally given into the training because I thought that even though I would have to surrender my virginity to a man I had never met, and serve his every humiliating desire, I wouldn’t really have to yield to it. I would have the excuse that I had submitted for the sake of the world-saving mission on which the Pretorian Guard had sent me.
I let out a choking sob as I understood how much more complicated my mission had become, in light of Ivan Antonov’s effect on me.
For the mission, I told myself. For the mission.
I felt my hands release the corners of the ottoman and, shaking violently, begin to move back, along my naked sides.
For the mission.
I closed my eyes as tightly as I could and I touched the warm cheeks my master had spanked so hard. I tried and failed to keep back the moan that rose to my lips at the terrible urgency of the sensation my fingers brought: soreness, but of a kind that sent tendrils of fire, hotter than the blazing logs on the hearth, shooting forward to the place that I knew I must now reveal to the man who meant to open me there.
Who had bought that privilege for millions of dollars.
My moan became a sob. I spread the little cheeks, the punished globes. I felt the air moving where a good girl keeps herself covered.
“More,” Ivan said. “Show me everything.”
I gasped and obeyed, the wand taking over again. Did my master know he had just made it easier for me? A strange, shameful gratitude, unwelcome and confusing, rose in my chest as I complied. My back arched, too, because I had to show him everything, and I pushed out my backside while my fingers spread open the entrance to my wantonly warm vagina.