Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I could tell that Christian was trying to read my mind, even as I tried to read his. I had a moment of dizziness as it all seemed to spin out of control, and the memory of the first time I had read a message from him, and learned that he had watched my intimate photo session, rose up to engulf me in a storm of embarrassment and arousal. I swallowed hard, my brow furrowing deeply.
You shouldn’t even have started to say something, you idiot, accused a reasonable voice in my head.
But suddenly Christian’s smile widened again, and my chest felt like a balloon of joy had just opened there. I felt silly for thinking it, but I couldn’t keep the idea from forming: he had read my mind, and what he had found there made him happy rather than angry.
“Go ahead, Rebel,” he said quietly. “And don’t worry about other people. They can mind their own fucking business.”
I swallowed again, and then I surprised myself with a girlish little giggle.
“Um,” I tried again, and then it came out in a rush. “So I met another girl from my building, and she said… well… she said this probably won’t last very long—you and me, I mean…”
Christian nodded, and, to my surprise, he kept smiling.
“So you’re wondering,” he said, with no hint of a question mark.
I nodded, feeling my forehead cloud again.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t set young women up with major career opportunities in the film business every day, even if they’re as smart and as gorgeous as you.”
I felt my jaw go slack, my lips parting.
“Even if,” my sponsor continued, lowering his voice as the left side of his mouth quirked upward even further, “I’ve sealed their needy little cunts and promised to thoroughly train their virgin assholes.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, and looked down at the beautiful fish. Between my thighs, behind those closed lips, I felt myself gush with pent-up need.
“Have a bite,” Christian said softly. “Don’t let it go cold. I’ll keep talking when you do that for your master.”
I felt tears form at the corners of my eyes as I obeyed, though I could hardly name the mingled emotions that had brought them there.
The fish—what had the waiter called it? monkfish?—seemed to melt in my mouth. For a moment it seemed like the silky, buttery taste had made me cry, it seemed so far beyond anything I had tasted before, even the mushroom bacon cloud.
“Now have a sip of the wine,” Christian commanded. “Then I’ll answer your question.”
“My question?” I asked, looking up at him for the first time since he had used the c-word with such devastating effect.
“Do as you’re told,” my master said, his eyes seeming to burn into me, full of lust and something else, something softer—something I hardly dared call affection even though it definitely didn’t resemble any other emotion.
I couldn’t bear to look into his gaze any longer, though part of me wanted to do that forever. I turned my eyes to my wineglass and I took a sip.
“Good girl,” Christian said. “The answer is very simple. I see a long future for us. I see you in a white dress despite all the dark, dirty things you will have done and have had done to you in the meantime. Beginning with tonight.”
Christian gave me his first command before the apartment door closed behind us.
“Go stand in the middle of the living room, facing the window,” he told me. “Put your hands behind your head.”
I turned to look at him, over my shoulder, panic already crawling through my belly like a frightened little animal. Christian stood with his strong hands clasped in front of him, the door solidly at his back.
With his eyes not moving from mine, he added, “Apartment, lock door.”
I swallowed hard as I heard the lock click. The little furry creature in my tummy scrambled desperately inside me, as if trying to escape. I hadn’t had any thought of trying to get away, no matter how harsh my sponsor got with me. I had thought to myself with pride, more than once that day, that I intended to show Christian that I could and would obey him as my stern master and my caring guide and lover. His words at dinner, about the white dress, had made that promise to myself even stronger.
The simple sound of the lock sealing the door of my home against my escape, just as this dominant man had closed me between my thighs, seemed to send that resolution flying away. I felt a terrible urge to run past him and try the door, or to flee and hide in my closet, or even to jump out the window, crashing through the heavy plate glass somehow.
The expression on Christian’s face told me none of that would work, even for a moment. My keeper would grab me, and he would discipline me for trying to run away from what I knew I needed—what he had patiently shown me would make me happy, fulfill me, despite the shame and the pain.