The Billionaire’s Wayward Virgin Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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It only took a few seconds, and then we had passed through the doorway into my bedroom, the bed unmade, my clothes strewn on the floor. I wondered suddenly if Christian would make me keep my apartment tidy, if he would turn me over his knee, someday, for failing to make the bed. I realized at just about the same time as he started to lift me from his shoulder, turn me in midair, and toss me onto the bed, that the idea of that sort of rule actually drew an almost unwelcome surge of affection into my chest.

He had thrown me onto my back, and I looked up at him with wide eyes and panting, parted lips.

“Apartment,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, though he addressed whatever computer controlled my home’s systems, somewhere in cyberspace, “activate bed restraints.”

My mouth opened even wider.

“Wha—” I started to ask, but the bed had responded before I could even pronounce the final T. I heard a click and a whir, and I felt a subtle vibration underneath the mattress. The click seemed to be made of several different noises, all occurring at precisely the same moment, arising from points all around the mattress.

Christian spoke to me for the first time since he had asked that fatal question, requesting the reason for my having messaged him while holding my lace-covered pussy in his hand. His voice had a note of warning in it that sent a chill down my spine.

“This will be a lot easier for both of us if you do as I tell you, Rebel. I’m going to restrain you now, either way, but it’s time for you to start accepting your needs and obeying me, even when you know you’re about to be punished.”

I couldn’t do anything more than stare up at him, my chest heaving with every rough breath. I could hardly process his words, and I certainly didn’t have the presence of mind to connect them with the strange clicks and vibrations he had just brought about around and beneath me.

“I know you don’t know the answer to my question,” Christian continued, a smile playing over his lips and his voice gentler than it had sounded a moment before. “Or, really, I’m pretty sure you do know, but you don’t want to admit it even to yourself. But I want you to think about it while I teach you your lesson.”

I blinked at him and swallowed hard.

You do know, said a voice from outer space. Of course you know.

“Wh-what… what lesson?” I stammered.

Christian lowered his chin and narrowed his eyes. I corrected myself without even thinking about it, speaking somehow simply from the fear that had instantly taken shape in the pit of my stomach.

“What lesson, sir?”

“I’m going to do exactly what I told you I would, if you disobeyed me. You made an agreement with me to follow my rules, and then you failed to comply when the time came to start your real training. As you yourself said in your messages to me, there have to be consequences. I’m going to seal your pussy now, and then I’m going to train your mouth with my cock. Then we won’t see each other for a few days. If you behave yourself and…”

My face went as hot as a supernova at the way he looked around my bedroom with an air of disappointment.

“…keep your apartment tidy, after our next date I’ll train your ass with my cock, then open you and fuck your pussy.”

Only when Christian had finished delivering this terrible statement of his obscene, degrading intentions did the words in it coalesce in my mind into something like sense. Then I had a moment of what felt almost like paralysis, as the warring parts of my psyche tried to do anything but lie there, looking up at him with fear-widened eyes.

After that, the same impulse that had seized me in the living room rose again, but with an edge of desperation so strong that it sent a huge surge of adrenaline rushing through my system. I rolled over and started to crawl for the edge of the bed. At that point I saw where the clicks and the whirring had actually come from: my bed, the ultra-comfortable haven at the center of my luxurious subsidized home, had sprouted webbing straps with cuffs affixed to the metal rings at their ends.

For a moment I wondered whether the actual intended resident of this apartment was an octopus, because it seemed like each side of the bed, including head and foot, had two straps attached. That impression faded instantly into a panicked, grudging appreciation of Selecta’s forethought: a sponsor would need as many options as possible for tying a girl up, wouldn’t he?

Christian showed me in the next few seconds that he knew how to take full advantage of a great many of those options. He took about as much time to pin me on the bed, straddling my midsection, as he had taken to grab me around the waist when I had first run for the door in the living room.



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