Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“But… but…” I spluttered.
Still Christian remained patient. The thought that he could have manhandled me into position and simply carried out his terrifying intention—that instead he had decided to take his time, and give me time—pressed itself urgently into my mind. Alongside it, more weirdly mixed emotions welled up: gratitude that somehow made me… resentful.
If he would just… just do it, an unwelcome voice said, in my mind, it would be over with.
I would pass from a young woman who had never known the firm hand of a man on her bare bottom, correcting her faults, to… something else. Some other girl—some other kind of girl.
A girl in training… in sexual training… one who belongs to a gorgeous, passionate, exciting billionaire… the kind of man who knows how to take care of her and to guide her… who doesn’t hesitate to punish her when she misbehaves or fails to obey even his lewdest command.
I shook my head again in a desperate attempt to clear away these thoughts and return my brain to the obvious task at hand: getting the gorgeous, passionate, exciting billionaire the fuck out of my apartment with my ass unbeaten.
“But I don’t want to… it… I don’t…”
I had utterly lost the thread connecting—or failing to connect—my words into comprehensible speech. Christian obviously understood precisely what I meant to say, though. He nodded, his forehead softening a little, and I shuddered at this new evidence that he could somehow read my mind.
“You’re trying to say that you don’t want to be spanked, so how can this be legal—or, more important, how can I intend to spank you, when I’m obviously in general a nice, if dominant, guy?”
I bit my lip and nodded, forcing a sob down in my chest. Christian’s smile widened a bit, as if my affirmation of his mind-reading had pleased him. The way my heart flip-flopped at the sight of his curving lips started to make me fear for my sanity.
“You don’t think you want it,” he said very softly. “Maybe it’s even accurate to say that you don’t want it, though I have a strong feeling that that’s not quite true, but…”
He leaned down, and he kissed me, very hard and very aggressively. His hands pinning my wrists moved my arms down a little, so that I felt the restraint much more keenly. His tongue probed into my mouth as my lips, which I had tensed at first, helplessly lost their firmness and with a whimper I gave myself over to the kiss.
I wanted this—how could I possibly deny that?
Christian pulled his mouth away, leaving me completely breathless. He finished his sentence.
“…you need it. You need it very badly.”
I opened my mouth, turning my chin to the side in the beginning of a headshake, of an utter denial. Christian, however, had obviously come to the end of his patience. With terrifying speed, he pulled me away from the wall and turned me. He used his grip on my wrists to put my arms behind my back, and he started to march me toward the living room.
My brain had really only begun to take in and to process what Christian had said about the algorithm. I only had the vaguest idea of what algorithm meant, anyway—and the idea that Selecta had used one on me to do more than simply, say, show me the posts they wanted me to see, on my social media feed seemed to open a trap door beneath my feet into some terrible abyss of potential shame.
Sure, Selecta obviously knew a shit-load about me. Only when the billionaire who had clearly decided to make himself my sponsor at least for a night began to propel me across the floor of my own apartment, with the much-too-certain goal of spanking my bare ass, did the possible extent of the megacorp’s knowledge sink in.
Much worse, Christian’s words had also shaped the darkness of the abyss into frightening, monstrous forms—all the scarier because, to my horror, they fascinated me. Did they know about… had they told this man about… about what I had seen, in my mind’s eye, when I had disgraced myself in front of the photographer? When I had come for the first time, thinking about what a man like Christian G might do with me, if I failed to obey him?
The idea seemed to bring a fresh surge of strength to my limbs. I tried desperately to renew my struggle against Christian’s grip, twisting to the side and pulling in what I thought might represent an unexpected direction. For an instant I thought I would get free, and I had a moment of panic as I realized I had no idea what I would do next, if I did manage to get away from him. Again, to my dismay, that strange disappointment tugged at the back of my mind; something in me seemed humiliatingly ready to fight against my natural independence.