Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 141255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He got to his feet and rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, looking frustrated. He reached into the closet where his suitcase sat on a stand and pulled out a white cotton t-shirt.
“Will this do?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What else you need?”
“Hairbrush?” I asked.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a shaving bag.
“Use whatever you need,” he said impatiently, not looking at me.
“Thank you. You can, if you prefer me dressed, request that my things are sent here.”
He nodded. “Tomorrow. I don’t wanna deal with anyone else tonight.”
I gave him a nod, even though he still wasn’t looking at me, and reentered the bathroom. I brushed my teeth with a new toothbrush that was stocked in all the rooms with the other toiletries. Then I swished mouthwash and towel dried my hair some more and then brushed it with Dare’s hairbrush. As I did, I thought about the fact that he and I would share things like this going forward as husband and wife.
I got into his t-shirt and it covered just below my bottom. The shirt smelled like fabric softener, like Downy April Fresh, the one I’d used back home. It was a scent I hadn’t had in my nostrils since arriving. I closed my eyes as I inhaled it, but then the scent soured in my body, reminding me of all I’d lost. I pushed the thoughts away and walked slowly out to the room and he was coming in from the small balcony, putting his cigarette case and lighter down on the bedside table.
“Grabbin’ a shower,” he told me as he passed me.
“Sir?” I asked.
He gritted his teeth, “Enough with the Sir. Fuck.”
“I apologize.”
“Stop apologizing.”
I clamped my mouth shut, unsure of how to reply.
“What did you need?” he asked, impatiently.
“Nothing, Master.”
He rolled his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom. I had been about to ask where he wanted me to wait for him, on the floor, in the bed, etc. But at his reaction to the Sir and the apology I decided to just wait and see.
I sat on the edge of the bed where I’d waited for him when he first arrived and stayed there until he came back out. I wish I knew what he wanted. A few simple orders and I’d easily be able to fit the role. But with no direction and all that was at stake I was afraid I’d muck it all up. I waited, trying to get my head together.
He wore a suit well. But wow, he also wore a bath towel well. That’s all he was in, a short towel around his waist and he was muscled: arms, legs, chiseled abs, the sexiest shoulders I think I’d ever seen. He was tanned and he was delicious-looking. My mouth went dry at the sight of him.
It had been a long time since I’d felt any sort of arousal before the act of being with someone. I did my job well during those acts, managed to provide enough moisture to make penetration not hurt at the start, and I always got into it, to fulfill my end. But until right now I don’t think I ever, since arriving here, felt arousal before it was time to get into it and had no other choice but to turn my body on with an order from my mind because it knew what was next and what was expected of me.
Despite the fact that I’d been with some good-looking men here at Kruna, some who’d even been kind enough under the circumstances, I had a different and new set of emotions swirling through me at the sight of my Master’s almost nude body. After all I’d endured looks typically meant nothing to me. I’d learned that evil came in both beautiful and ugly forms. It didn’t matter. A to B. A to B. That’s all I did, not noticing looks, not feeling anything but the orgasms, on complete autopilot.
Maybe it was because I hadn’t had sex in six and a half weeks, probably the longest stretch of abstinence since I’d lost my virginity at the age of fourteen. Maybe it was just because this man was the one who’d get me out of here, as long as I didn’t screw it up. That body right there could also be my only source of pleasure for the rest of my life and looking at it right now, at least I’d probably never get tired of looking at it.
She was seated on the end of the bed in just my t-shirt, her hair wet and curling but the length sitting over one shoulder. She looked up at me with piercing blue eyes and what looked like desire. There was no way she was legitimately aroused at the sight of me, not when this poor girl was a sex slave. No fucking way; I must be mis-reading the tint in her complexion, the swallow, the way she’d moistened her lips and was breathing more heavily; the way her eyes had traveled from the floor to my face and then slowly back to the floor again. Or I wasn’t misreading it but she was just trained so well at it that it was all part of an act. Pop’s voice echoed in my brain.