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)
Christian Guzman, on the other hand… Christian had worked very hard, I realized as I replayed it all in my head, still staring down at my phone, under the palm trees. My heart rate, already elevated, kicked up another notch. I felt my breathing grow heavy and I had to fight the urge to rub the back of my neck, as if Christian’s imaginary high-power binoculars had caused an itch there.
He had worked very hard to train me for his enjoyment, and he had seemed to like the results very much. He had liked punishing me and fucking me—and he had made my body feel more pleasure than I had ever supposed it could experience. He had offered to take me further still.
Into the darkness. I swallowed hard and I shivered despite the California heat that warmed my skin even in the shade. Into the darkness, with a guide.
A very, very firm-handed guide. A man who knows how to impose the kind of consequences that teach a wayward young woman how to behave.
Christian would never have allowed me to wriggle away from his hand without… without… consequences. My brain stopped at that word again, and then I read his last message for the thousandth time.
5:30 at your apartment. Yes, there will be consequences. Nothing but your lingerie, when you answer the door. If you want to see me, reply the correct way.
I felt my forehead furrow hard. My thumbs shook as I typed out my reply.
Yes, sir.
CHAPTER 23
Leah
My blushes came and went uncontrollably as I waited in the living room, dressed only in my lacy bra and thong panties. Somehow Christian had sent me into that intergalactic headspace without laying a finger on me. I had gotten ready for this… this thing—could I even call it a date?—in a fog of swirling thought and feeling, every one of them seemingly unrelated to the last, all of them together detaching me from the reality of what I did.
I had taken off my t-shirt and my jeans. I had taken off my ordinary beige bra and pink cotton panties. I distinctly remembered telling myself not to look in the mirror, but I also had no need to look at a reflection to see it in my mind’s eye—and to remember that if I granted Christian permission, he would be able to see it, too.
He had watched me during that degrading intimate photo session. He had seen me play with myself because of the twisted story the photographer had told me about myself.
I had revoked the permission, though. Christian had put more money in my bank account than I had ever seen attached to anything bearing my name. For that price he had demanded everything—every intimate privilege, including the right to discipline me simply for not keeping myself available for his rigid cock’s enjoyment at all times.
I had kicked him out of my apartment.
He had punished me. For not talking about my panties in a public place.
I had kept my eyes away from every reflective surface as I put on the lacy white bra and panties. I looked at the carpet, the dresser, the ceiling.
He had punished me, and he would punish me. And I had typed Yes, sir.
I sat on the couch, looking out the big picture window, grateful that it hadn’t started to get dark yet because the light from outside ensured I couldn’t see my reflection, and—I thought I remembered from high school science class—no one could see in.
No one could see the girl dressed only in her naughty underwear, sitting on the couch, waiting for…
My mind wandered back to six nights before, when the darkness outside had meant I could see everything in the window’s reflection: Christian, standing over me, bending over me, thrusting inside me, riding me, making me come like I had never imagined.
The pictures in my head seemed like something out of a very dirty but extremely well-made movie—an art film, rather than a porno. Above all, they seemed less like memories than like a series of camera shots that depicted someone else.
The sounds that went with them—my sobs of pain and pleasure, Christian’s grunts of satisfaction, the terrible words he seemed so very good at saying in just the right tone of voice—existed far, far away, too. Out in the blackness of space.
At the very outer limit of that cosmic detachment I heard, distinctly but very softly, words so outrageous they could only be spoken at the edge of the galaxy.
“I’m going to close up your pussy and keep it that way until you learn to obey me.”
I shut my eyes and pushed town the tiny sob that threatened to emerge from my throat. The urge to grab my phone and text Christian that I had made a mistake nearly overwhelmed me, but I didn’t move a muscle, because my body seemed completely disconnected from my mind.