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 was going to say,” he finally continued, “that even if you supposed you had gamed Selecta’s system, they have ways that go beyond the simple questions on their questionnaires to tell if you really are a good candidate for their programs. The same is true when they’re choosing girls for platinum level in Selecta Arrangements. You’re not in this gorgeous apartment, not having to work for your subsidy, just because you’re stunningly beautiful, Leah.”
Not just because.
Stunningly beautiful.
I felt a pleasurable blush come into my cheeks at the unexpected compliment. Christian had said it almost off-hand, but it seemed to me even more valuable for the honesty that showed.
I hadn’t even noticed, I realized, that on the SA forums so many other girls complained about their jobs working for Selecta subsidiaries but I didn’t have an assigned job at all. Platinum level clearly meant more than I thought it had, but that left me with an even bigger question.
“What does… what do you mean?” I breathed.
For a moment his dark eyes seemed to bore into my soul. Fuck around and find out, I thought, my breathing speeding up so much I thought I might hyperventilate.
“I think you already know,” he said. “And it’s going to be a lot more fun for both of us if we don’t spell it out.”
“Fun,” I whispered, feeling my brow crease so hard it brought on a wince. I watched Christian study my face, saw the right corner of his mouth lift a little. I could tell he was having fun. “I’m not… I mean, I don’t think it’s fun for…”
“You didn’t have fun this morning when you had your pictures taken?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and adopting a tone of innocence that made my mortified reaction feel even hotter.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. “That… I can’t believe…” Behind me, my hands clutched at the round globes of my bottom as I involuntarily remembered Mary the photographer’s story—my story.
Fun? Had that felt fun, even when I had received the ecstatic release of my first orgasm?
“Okay,” Christian said softly, clearly seeing my distress. “Maybe fun isn’t the right word—or maybe we need to be clear that it’s going to be a different kind of fun from going to see Moonglider.”
“Oh, God,” I said again, because the realization that the man who had made that amazing movie now stood looking at me, in my apartment, and he clearly wanted to fuck me.
Not just fuck me, as heart-poundingly scary and, frankly, exciting as that idea seemed. Christian had made it very plain that he wanted to claim me—deflower me, take me, have me… use my body for his pleasure.
Then… keep me. Teach me and train me. Guide me, with his firm hand.
You do already know, a voice said, from somewhere so deep in my mind that I could tell it really had much more to do with my body than with my mind: a part of me so hard-wired into my nervous system that the ideas it sent to my head seemed like they came from a dark, unexplored country that I could never have found on a map.
Christian took a step toward me. He moved slowly but smoothly, raising his hands to the level of his hips and spreading them a little, as if to make sure I could see them.
As if he were a skilled animal handler, approaching a wild beast he doesn’t want to spook.
Not a dangerous creature, I thought—and I could see in his eyes that he didn’t feel any anxiety over the possibility that I might harm him. No, his gentle eyes told me he feared I could harm myself with my foolish attempts to escape. This trainer of wayward girls knew his job very well. He knew that a young woman just awakening to her true nature needed careful handling, if she was going to learn to serve him properly and to give him the pleasure he sought and deserved.
His face told me, as he moved closer, that he wouldn’t only punish me. He would reward me, too, when I was a good girl for him. He would give me more than I could even imagine, his smile seemed to say—more security, more lovely things… above all, more pleasure. He would never harm me.
But…
But he would discipline me, when I needed it.
And he knew when I needed it, much better than I did.
And I needed it right now.
I let out a little cry, and despite Christian’s careful approach I backed up a step, my hands still behind me to cover my backside. I felt the wall against my hands and then against my shoulders. I heard the breath coming and going raggedly between my parted lips.
“Please,” I whispered.
I thought I meant please stop or please stay right there. Christian kept moving, though, coming ever closer, extending his hands a little more.