Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“You need to learn to obey me,” he growls as he carries me into his bedroom, tosses me down on the bed, and slaps my ass several more times. Each time his palm lands, it is a hard gunshot-like sound followed by one of my pathetic, plaintive cries. “When I tell you to leave a room, you leave a room. You do not question me.”
I can’t argue. I can’t breathe or speak enough to argue. He is spanking me mercilessly, hard and fast, and there is nothing about his demeanor that makes me think he would want to hear my opinion. He has always been the type to give commands and expect them to be obeyed, but right now, he is prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure I submit.
“Okay! I’m sorry! I’ll do what you say!”
“Yes,” he says, giving me one last smack. “You will.”
He stalks out of the room, leaving me in tears. I have never experienced him that way before—actually angry. He still had self-control when he spanked me, but I could feel the cool dominance and the absolute intensity of his resolve. Marcus has absolutely no intention of being disobeyed for long. He will happily break my will before he allows that to happen.
I lie on the bed for some time, sniveling and feeling immensely sorry for myself. My ass is aching, and my pride is non-existent. He has stripped that from me and left me writhing in his wake.
Slowly, I start to recover. The shock of being treated this way is starting to wear off, and I am starting to remember a few things—like he doesn’t actually own me. I’ve been playing into his sick control fantasies in order to get closer to him, to verify some of the worst rumors I’ve heard about him. It might be that Trent fucking dies tonight because I had to follow this unhinged urge for justice.
He had no right to spank me like that. He had no right to treat me like an animal he owns and can punish for errant behavior. No matter what delusions he labors under, people are still born free in this country, and even the mighty can fall.
I pull on a shirt of his which is long enough to cover my ass, and I pad through his place. I know I already have enough on Marcus to create an absolute media firestorm.
I have been marked. There is a fucking chip in my neck. That alone would be enough. But I want more evidence. I don’t want this to come down to what sounds like sexual impropriety, because that never sticks to men. People expect men, especially rich, powerful men to be sick bastards. Where they really get angry is when it comes to financial crimes.
I’m never going to have enough time to uncover something like that tonight. But while he’s downstairs killing Trent, I do have time to use the little ace up my sleeve that I have been hiding this entire time.
I have a little tube of lipstick in my purse. The same purse I’ve had on me from the beginning. It goes unnoticed because a girl’s cosmetics are almost always beyond male scrutiny. There’s even an actual color inside it, so I can apply it to my lips if need be. It’s the base of the lipstick that’s interesting. If you turn it counter-clockwise, it comes off and there’s a little USB connector inside—because this isn’t a connector. This is a storage device, and a transmitter. It came in a package sent to me by Libraryleaks right back in the beginning. I never thought I’d get the chance to use it. I thought I’d never have the nerve to use it.
Now I am the right combination of furious and upset to not care.
I plug it into Marcus’ computer, and I sit beneath his desk as the tool does its work. It will be copying every file it can get its little digital fingers on, including email, and anything encrypted.
Trent doesn’t think very highly of me, and Marcus obviously thinks I’m no better than an animal, but I did not come to this rodeo without a lasso of my own.
There’s a muted beep that sounds when it is finished copying. I slip it out of his computer and put it back into the lipstick base. That’s where the real magic starts. It begins to transmit, using a battery and a very small wireless device, sending all the information it just gathered to a decentralized network of servers.
I just took Marcus Waterstone’s personal files and disseminated them to every hacker on the planet, effectively. What I just did has the potential to make Wikileaks look like a gossip rag.
If he hadn’t just thrashed me, I might not have done it. I certainly didn’t take the first opportunity that presented itself—but when it comes down to it, hot as he is, Marcus Waterstone is one of the world’s true villains, and he deserves to be exposed.