Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
This is just a warm up. She doesn’t deserve this courtesy, but by the way she acts, I’d put money on her never having been properly spanked in her life. Humans are rarely disciplined suitably. My observations suggest that they are either punished too harshly, or not at all. This woman is mature enough to imagine that she is beyond a good dose of discipline. She is wrong.
The journey from the lobby to the penthouse suite she occupies takes approximately sixty-nine seconds. I endeavor to get at least sixty-nine good swats in along the way, giving her a taste of what she has to enjoy if she defies me again.
My anger at her disobedience is melting in the face of the joy of punishing her. I have to admit that I have more than a grudging admiration for the sheer nerve it takes to free climb down the side of a building for some attention from fans. I wonder if the attention she is getting now will sate some of that need.
By the time the doors open to the penthouse, she is starting to actually whimper. She might even be getting close to something like regret, maybe even an apology. But she’s not all the way there yet, and I take something like twisted mercy on her by dropping her down onto her feet as we step back into the penthouse.
“You fucking ASSHOLE!” she screams, grabbing her rear. It’s much harder for her to appear vengeful while rubbing her buttocks with both hands.
“Hey, you two, how’s it going? Getting to know one another?”
Simon Scowl greets us with a sleepy, open-jawed yawn, having apparently returned to the room in the middle of this chaos and fallen asleep. I know him well enough to understand that beneath the laid back feline exterior, this guy is a stone cold predator with nothing that passes for even close to empathy swimming behind his golden eyes.
Lyric hasn’t learned that yet. She still thinks he’s the charming agent who lifted her out of obscurity and intends to make all her dreams come true. She thinks he is her friend. Most incorrectly, she thinks that he is on her side.
“No! We are not! He just abducted me from downstairs! I was meeting the fans. And he hit me!” She adds the last little detail as if it is going to particularly scandalize him.
Simon was lying down on one of the many chaise longes. Now he gets up, slowly, casually, dangerously.
“Were you getting paid to meet the fans? More specifically, was I paid for you to meet the fans?”
She looks at him, stunned, as if it never occurred to her that Simon Scowl is in this entirely for the money. There is literally no part of her life he will not monetize if possible.
“They’ve been waiting out there for hours. They’re my human supporters. The ones I owe everything to.”
“Wrong,” Simon says. “You owe everything to me.”
Her head jerks back in shock, her glossy dark hair moving around her face in a curtain of annoyance. I don’t think she has any idea how to respond to that.
Lyric
“Also,” Simon adds casually. “Spanking is part of the contract. You will be punished for contractual violations and behavioral misadventures.”
“I’m sorry, what the fuck?”
“Anything I decide makes you more compliant and productive is on the table.”
I take a deep breath and calm myself. Okay. I see what’s happening here. They’re ganging up on me. Trying to make me compliant. It’s not going to work. I have to show these guys that they’re not going to treat me like they usually treat their contracted starlets. They want to play hardball? I’ve got some hard fucking balls.
“Take it the fuck off the table, buddy, or I walk.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Simon Scowl purrs, his voice low, his eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t think you fully understand your situation.”
“I guess not. Why don’t you make it clear to me?” I try very hard to sound polite and in control. This is the voice I reserve for assholes who are fucking around, and at imminent risk of finding out. I know that he is giving me the world, maybe even a thousand worlds, but I still have my nerve.
“For all intents and purposes, I own you for the next three years, and I do mean literally own. There is nothing I cannot do to you,” Simon growls. “You have fewer rights than this rug.” He curls his sharp, clawed toes into the rug pile.
I feel a very unpleasant shiver run down the length of my spine. His words are bad enough, but his tone is worse. It is cold, devoid of any kind of emotion, and even worse, charm. Simon Scowl has always been the most charming, kind, engaging creature to interact with, but now there is none of any of that. I realize that I’m seeing the real Simon Scowl. The void that lives inside him is on full display in his leonine eyes. I am seeing the end of all things for one long moment. As soon as that blank stare comes, it goes again, replaced with a big, toothy grin and a charming smirk. “Do we understand one another?”