Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
While the master’s away, the mice will play.
I am not his pet. I am my own master. Always have been and always will be.
I turn my face away from him stubbornly, shove my dress down, and scamper off the table. I ignore his dark laugh behind me as I run up the steps toward my room.
He knocks on my door and invites me to breakfast the next morning, but knowing it will just be more of him taunting me with food I can’t have, I ignore him and stay under my covers. For once he doesn’t drag me down to torture me with the smells and sights of food I can’t eat.
I stay in bed until I hear the boom of the front door closing that signals he’s left for the day. Then I throw off the covers and run to the window just to make sure. And yep, just as I thought, he’s headed out, a wide brimmed hat on his head and tight-fitting Levi’s hugging one truly fine ass—
I jerk my eyes away from my captor’s backside and go back to bed.
Time to remind myself that no man has control over me or my body. I’ve never been a super sexual person—or at least, before now, I’ve never allowed sex to consume so much of my thoughts. And I’ve certainly never let it influence my actions.
I just need to regain perspective and take back my power. Remind myself there’s nothing Xavier has to give me that I can’t take care of all on my own.
I dip my hand underneath the covers. I touch myself and try to let my mind wander. Okay, time to pull out all my best fantasizing material.
Except all the fantasies I used to use to get myself off seem pale and vapid compared to what real sex is actually like.
And my only experience with the real thing is with Xavier.
Who is the last person on earth I want to be thinking about right now.
But when I close my eyes, it’s his firm fingers I imagine roaming up my thigh and teasing my pussy lips. When I slide my own fingers inside myself, I can’t help imagining they’re his. With my other hand, I pluck at my nipples the same way he did.
I arch and cry out under my ministrations.
I think of the way his eyes glitter with dark lust and how it felt when he shoved that huge cock so deep inside me, again and again and again—
I come with a piercing cry, my whole body spasming with pleasure.
The orgasm is quick and sharp, and all too soon over.
It was okay, but nothing like the full body fire that erupts when he touches me. When his cock penetrates me.
I shudder even thinking the phrases and I start touching myself all over again.
And then again.
And again
It’s one day-long masturbation session.
I masturbate in the shower. And afterward when I’m drying off, laying on my bed. I masturbate while I’m trying again with the bobby pins at the kitchen lock, pausing to drop to the floor and shove my fingers roughly in and out of myself while I rub my raw clit hard and deep until I scrape yet another orgasm from my exhausted body.
It’s barely pleasurable anymore, but if this is what it takes to break free from Xavier’s strange hold over my body, I’ll do it every day while he’s out.
Still, I’m done for now. I’m so tired. Something they don’t warn you about when you try fasting—it’s so tiring.
It makes sense if you think about it. Without any calories going in, you’ve got nothing but your own stores of fat to burn for energy. I’m no dainty little flower—there’s plenty of extra to burn, but I’m still plenty tired just drinking only water for two days straight.
I drag my worn-out ass back up the stairs for a long afternoon nap after the orgasm-a-thon. I only wake up when my door bangs open.
I blink sleepy eyes, confused when I notice dim light shining through my windows. Is it already evening?
But I jolt upright when I see the tall, hulking silhouette standing in my doorway.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself this afternoon.” Xavier does not sound happy. In fact, he sounds pissed the hell off.
I scramble back on my bed when he stalks toward me, his boots thundering against the wooden floor with each step.
How did he even know? Deny, deny, deny.
“Xavier, I don’t know what—”
“It’s Master to you,” he bites out. “I tried to do this the nice way. To let you freely roam the house. But I should know that to break a mare, you can never give them any head.”
Like he has before, he picks me up and swings me over his shoulder. He’s just come in from outside and his intoxicating scent is stronger than ever.