Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
She crouched beside him and rested fingertips on his hardening length, watching him through the eyeholes, allowing him to make eye contact with her.
Her inhuman stillness paired with her apparent disregard for time was hell on his blood pressure. As she squatted there, making him wait, the rest of the world went about their oblivious lives. Except his folks, but he refused to ask about them, fearing the answer.
Finally, she loosened the cinches around his neck and lowered the zipper down the side. “I’ll feed you when your tasks are complete…if you follow the eight requirements you’ve been given.”
No doubt she had an infinite supply of punishments planned if he lapsed on her perverted rules.
As she worked the zipper on the bag, he walked through the list. No sex with women. Service the Master sexually or some crap. Eyes down. No clothes. Did a latex toga count? No touching her or himself sexually. Use the title. Kneel. No orgasms. Never thought he’d welcomed that last one so eagerly.
When the zipper finished its rotation around the bag, she unfolded the cover and stepped back.
Careful not to meet her eyes, he lifted to shaky knees, debating the wisdom of knocking her off her feet. If he strangled her to death, he probably wouldn’t live to see his next meal.
He rubbed his cracked lips. Were there cameras hidden in the ceilings? Was Van watching from another room, waiting for an excuse to kill his parents? And leading his parade of insecurities was a humiliating thought. Was the fluid crusting his pubis an indication he didn’t have a chance at adhering to her damned rules?
His body was conditioned to take a beating on the field, his mind strengthened to suppress desires that didn’t align with his spirituality. He could endure her punishments as long as he made progress in unraveling the knots that bound her soul.
He held out his cuffed wrists, hoping his submission would garner her trust.
“I see through you, boy. Passivity doesn’t take root until the first weeks or months, and stems from boredom and lack of contact with the outside world.” The mask cocked. “Six orgasms in two hours does not convince me that you’re bored and lonely already.”
Ugh, she was frustrating. Deep breath. Acquiring her friendship would be a harrowing endeavor, but the first step was easy. He wouldn’t lie to her. “Mistress, talk to me. I don’t want to screw this up. If something happens to my folks… Just help me, and I’ll help you.”
The dainty bones in her collar and shoulders sharpened against her skin. He didn’t dare raise his eyes above her neck. Then the mask spoke. “Follow the requirements, and you’ll help us both. No more talking.”
Irritation skittered over his spine, but he remained on his knees with arms raised. Helping people was the one aspect of his career he’d looked forward to. Maybe God put him in this situation to test him with the ultimate challenge, to save the darkest of souls. “Mistress, I’d rather you restrain my arms than my voice.”
She stepped before him and gripped the cuffs she’d never removed. He expected her to whip some hidden chain from her bra and slap it on his arms. Instead, she molded his hands around the tiny circumference of her waist and squeezed in silent command. Don’t let go? Was this a softening in her armor? Please?
The velvet of her skin heated his palms. The wet crotch of her panties, in the direct line of his lowered eyes, filled his nose with a spicy aroma. Perhaps God was testing him with man’s greatest temptation. His confidence in being able to pass that trial fizzled as blood rushed below his waist.
“Requirement number nine. Slave will not speak unless spoken to.” Her nails scratched down his forearms. “Your hands will be free to perform your tasks.”
He guessed she expected him to try to overpower her and was probably prepared to subdue him like last time. He wasn’t going to give her the pleasure.
“I’m the only person who knows the code for this room. Stand and follow me.” She pushed his hands off her hips and walked to the toilet, though the way she moved couldn’t be described as walking. It was more like the uninterrupted flow of a stream, gliding forward with confident disregard.
He trailed her wake, dodging the floor hooks with much less grace. Though, he strode a little lighter with the knowledge that Van couldn’t bust in without her permission. How odd that he didn’t have access. Was it because she was in charge? Something didn’t seem right about that and the answer felt vital to understanding her. What was her relationship with that guy?
She stopped before the medicine cabinet above the vanity, swung open the mirrored door, and dropped a threadbare rag in the sink. Her weight shifted to one leg, jutting out her hip, the bottom edge of her panties creeping up the musculature of one round cheek. She was so tiny and sensually-shaped, yet he’d felt her strength in her punch and could see it contracting through the tendons in her back.