Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“That was quite a scene in there,” Tomas said, his voice low enough that only Leo and I could hear.
I nodded, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. “It was unexpected,” I admitted. “But it’s given me some clarity.”
I leaned in closer to Tomas and Leo, lowering my voice. “Listen, I need a favor. Can you get the team together in the locker room tomorrow afternoon? Say around four?”
Tomas raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his dark eyes. “Sure, but what’s this about, Lucas?”
I glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. The locker room was a cacophony of celebration.
“I need to address the team about… recent events,” I said carefully. “And about my future with PSG.”
Leo’s eyes widened slightly. “You’ve made a decision about the Yokohama offer?”
I nodded, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. “I have. But I want the team to hear it first, before the press gets wind of it.”
My teammates exchanged a look, concern etched on their faces. Tomas clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “We’ll make it happen, mon ami. You can count on us.”
With that settled, I made my way to my locker, my mind already racing ahead to my next move. I pulled out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before I began to type:
Alice, be in your apartment tomorrow afternoon at 3:30. You have a whipping coming.
Alice
My blood ran cold when I read Lucas’ message.
My hands wouldn’t stop trembling as I read it again and again, my heart pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. A whipping. The words sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts terror and arousal coursing through my veins.
I paced the length of my small apartment, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. Outside, I could hear the constant chatter and occasional shout of the paparazzi camped on my doorstep. Their presence was a stark reminder of my foolishness in falling for the photographer’s trick.
As the hours ticked by, I found myself unable to focus on anything. I tried to distract myself with schoolwork, but the words on the page blurred together, my mind constantly drifting back to Lucas’ message. The thought of his strong hands wielding the martinet, the sharp sting of leather against my skin, sent jolts of heat straight to my helplessly warm pussy.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and nearly gasped at the reflection. My cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with a mixture of fear and anticipation. My nipples strained against the thin fabric of my t-shirt, betraying my body’s eager response to the promise of punishment.
As afternoon faded into evening, I found myself drawn to the window. Peeking through the curtains, I could see the small crowd of photographers still huddled on the sidewalk.
The hours passed as I found myself trapped in a prison of my own making. The paparazzi outside my apartment building were relentless, shouting at even the slightest movement behind my curtains. I paced restlessly, feeling like a caged animal.
The thought of messaging Lucas, begging him not to come, crossed my mind a hundred times. My fingers hovered over my phone, trembling as I imagined typing out the words that might put an end to this exquisite torment. But each time, I found myself unable to follow through. The mere idea of denying Lucas, of disappointing him further, made my chest ache with a pain I couldn’t quite understand—fear was there, but it didn’t represent the core of the emotion.
As night fell, I seriously considered fleeing Paris altogether. I could pack a bag, slip out the back entrance, and disappear into the night. I even went so far as to pull my suitcase from the closet, the sound of the zipper unnaturally loud in the quiet apartment. But as I stood there, staring at the empty bag, I realized I had nowhere to go. More important, I didn’t want to go anywhere. Despite my fear, despite my better judgment, I wanted—no, needed—to face whatever consequences Lucas had in store for me.
The thought of the impending whipping filled me with an impossibly complex mixture of thoughts and feelings. Terror gripped my heart, making it race and my palms sweat. I remembered the sharp sting of the martinet, but I also remembered my keeper’s tender touch between my thighs.
As dawn broke, casting a pale golden light through my curtains, I found myself curled up on the sofa, having barely slept. My mind raced with conflicting emotions, each battling for dominance in my exhausted psyche.
The thought of Lucas’ impending arrival filled me with a terror so profound it left me breathless. I could almost feel the whip against my tender flesh, the sharp crack of leather meeting skin echoing in my ears. My bottom clenched involuntarily, remembering the searing pain of my last punishment.