Her Shameful Education Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 61287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
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I had more or less made my career on the basis of this kind of campaign. It had turned Selecta’s Education division from a sleepy source of training for New Modesty and Selecta Arrangements agents into a key, data-driven ally of marketing.

The central idea lay in taking consumers—men and women in many different walks of life, from suburban housewife to high-powered executive—on a kind of journey. They would discover the story of a young woman like Renee through a story shared on social media, the tale of a young woman’s romance with a wealthy man. They would search for more details, and find that this romance involved Renee learning old-fashioned obedience from a stern, older protector.

The decision to search made the consumer’s education in dominance and submission happen unconsciously. They would think about Renee more than they perhaps would have supposed they might.

At the same time, that search would alert my crowning achievement, Selecta’s educational neural network. When, with a 93% probability, they searched again, to see if they could learn more about Renee, the neural net would feed them new content, thoroughly laced with Selecta product placement and precisely geared to their specific level of education with regard to the strict disciplining of young women. That level would, with the help of the neural net, begin to grow at the pace best suited to make them, the consumer, a happier user of Selecta’s products and services—as well as a happier dominant or submissive.

In the end, with an 88% probability—a percentage that represented around three million users on a daily basis, now in my third year as senior vice president of education—the consumer would reach the most explicit content. It took them an average of six months to go from the cotton candy billionaire romance to the curated videos of a young woman’s harshest punishments and most overwhelming climaxes under her husband’s, or master’s, or daddy’s stern paddle or his rigid cock.

At that point, as far as Marketing’s current research showed, they had become Selecta customers for life—and, the part that made me proudest, their life-satisfaction rating had gone up an average of eight percentage points. The number that made my bosses sit up and take notice, on the other hand, was the one that represented the corporation’s gold standard: the percentage of households practicing loving discipline in one form or another had risen six points among Selecta’s consumer base, and applications for admission to the New Modesty increased a point or two in the wake of each new campaign of this type that we launched.

I hadn’t even considered, when I had purchased Renee the previous night, that I might feature her in a campaign. Really it simply hadn’t occurred to me that her story in my house might be a love story at all. I liked to fuck gorgeous young women, and I liked to keep them in line when they misbehaved. I liked it best of all when I had ascertained that the lovely girl in question stood in need of very stern discipline. I had bought Renee because she seemed a unique opportunity to spend a year doing precisely that, at my leisure and according to my desires.

That unique opportunity had, in the space of less than twenty-four hours, turned into something… well, if not completely different then at least only distantly related. Still a unique opportunity, though. I didn’t like to say something could be more unique than anything else, since unique after all means one of a kind. If anything could be more unique, though, it felt to me like Renee’s arrival in my life was it. Most unique, even.

Renee

I whimpered softly into the comforter as Candy turned the plug in my anus. Not too much lube, Master Hendryk had said. I didn’t know if the artificial girl had some special capacity for measuring precise quantities of the viscous fluid she had applied to the terrible stiff thing that held me painfully open. To me it seemed, though, like she had interpreted not too much to mean not enough.

Her strange alphanumeric outburst seemed to have caused no real change in her conduct. I felt so out of it, so removed from myself, that I almost decided I had imagined it.

“Master didn’t tell me how much of the plug to put in your bottom,” she said, her voice sounding a little meditative. She turned it again, and I let out a little cry of discomfort as I felt the bulk inside my darkest hole move. My fingers clutched at my sore cheeks, trying to widen them to make the ordeal easier.

I heard the door open, and then I heard Master Hendryk’s voice say, “You can take a step back, Candy. I’ll finish giving her the plug.”

I had dipped into subspace again, at the turning of the plug in my anus, so time moved in strange, elastic ways. The light tapping of Master Hendryk’s fingers on the base of the awful thing made me shudder only a fraction of a second later, it seemed to me, though he must have had to take a few steps to get from the door of that enormous bedroom to the bed itself, with me prostrate and offered atop it.


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