Bought and Enjoyed – Shameful Arrangements Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Emily Tilton Advertisement1

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With no other way to pay for her final semester of school, Alice Morgan accepts a scholarship offer from the Selecta Corporation, but as she is stripped bare for an embarrassingly intimate examination it becomes clear the arrangement comes with some very shameful strings attached.

Alice's humiliation and her helpless arousal both increase exponentially when she meets her sponsor, world-renowned athlete Lucas Moreau, and he immediately orders her to undress completely and present herself for an inspection and then a stern reminder of her new role.

But as the man who now all but owns her sets about mastering her body in every way imaginable, Alice fears she'll soon be left with no choice but to acknowledge the terrible truth.

She doesn't just surrender to every hard spanking and savage climax, she needs them.

Publisher's Bought and Enjoyed is a stand-alone book which is the fifth entry in the series The Shameful Arrangements. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don't buy this book.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

Alice

Whoever had pinned the flyer on the department bulletin board had put it off in the corner, as if to ensure that whoever noticed it would have to be desperate to find something—anything—that might keep their dreams afloat.

SELECTA Europe Scholarships

for graduate study in the humanities abroad

mail SEScholarships@SELECTA.com for details

I frowned as I read it. So… Selecta giveth and Selecta taketh away?

My frown became a grimace as I thought about it. Blessed be the Name of Selecta?

In this case, the taketh away part had happened first: Selecta ending humanities graduate programs at all their subsidized universities, when I had one semester left of my degree in French history. I had had every expectation of being one of the lucky few who had a shot at a spot in a PhD program and, afterward, an academic job. Not glamorous, but steady—and, more important, the career I had dreamed of.

I didn’t have much hope, because after the crushing disappointment of the news four months ago, a scholarship to study in Europe seemed much too good to be true. I mailed the address anyway, though, because why the fuck not.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting another message from my roommate about whose turn it was to buy toilet paper. Instead, I saw an email from SEScholarships@SELECTA.com.

My heart raced as I opened it, hardly daring to hope. The message was terse:

Dear Ms. Morgan,

Thank you for your interest in the SELECTA Europe Scholarships program. To proceed with your application, we require the following:

1. Full access to all your social media accounts

2. Agreement to undergo a comprehensive medical examination if your candidacy advances

Please reply to this email with your consent to both conditions within twenty-four hours to continue the application process.

Regards,

SELECTA Europe Scholarships Team

I stared at my phone, baffled. Why would they need my social media? And a medical exam? For a scholarship?

My thumb hovered over the reply button as I chewed my lip. This seemed invasive, even for Selecta. But what choice did I have? My dreams of becoming a French history professor were slipping away with each passing day.

I thought of the dusty archives in Paris I longed to explore, the musty smell of centuries-old documents, the thrill of uncovering some long-forgotten detail about life in medieval France. I imagined myself lecturing in a grand hall, students hanging on my every word as I brought the past to vivid life.

With a deep breath, I hit reply. What could it hurt? I hadn’t done much partying in college—definitely nothing embarrassing. My socials held only a few musings about history and literature that already made me cringe when they popped up in ‘One Year Ago’ notifications, but I didn’t think they could cost me a scholarship.

And a medical exam? Sure—maybe Selecta just wanted to be sure I wouldn’t drop dead in the middle of my scholarship. I might even have thought it a rare sign of actual compassion, if I hadn’t suspected it had more to do with how much it would cost them to ship my body home.

I provided my social network logins and consented to the medical exam. This time the reply from Selecta came in even less time.

Dear Ms. Morgan,

Thank you for your continued interest. Please report to West Hall Room 205 tomorrow at one p.m. sharp for a written qualifying examination.

Regards,

SELECTA Europe Scholarships Team

The next day, I arrived at West Hall fifteen minutes early, my nerves jangling. The hallway was eerily quiet as I made my way to Room 205. I had expected to see other anxious students milling about, but the corridor was deserted.

I hesitated before the closed door, taking a deep breath to steady myself. This was it—my one shot at salvaging my academic dreams. I smoothed my blouse, pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and knocked.

“Come in,” called a crisp female voice.

I entered to find a spartan classroom. A lone figure sat behind the teacher’s desk—a severe-looking woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Her piercing gaze raked over me as I approached.

“Alice Morgan?” she asked, consulting a sheet of paper.

I nodded, unsure if I should speak.

“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the empty desks. “You may begin as soon as I distribute the exam.”

I glanced around the room, bewildered. “Excuse me, but… am I the only one taking this test?”

The woman’s lips thinned. “That is correct. Now, please be seated.”

Confusion and unease prickled along my skin as I chose a desk in the middle of the room. Why was I the only candidate? Surely others had seen that flyer?

The proctor placed a single sheet of paper face down on my desk, and then a blue book. Her heels clicked against the linoleum as she returned to her own. “You have two hours. Begin.”

With trembling fingers, I flipped over the exam paper. My eyes widened as I read the two essay prompts, from which the directions said I must choose one:


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