The Billionaire’s Wayward Virgin Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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I let out a pitiful sob as to my amazement I clenched hard at the thought of being made to tidy up. My mouth twisted to the side as I tried to keep myself just from begging for the release he had denied me. But if I said yes… he wouldn’t give me that release for days, would he? And if I said no, I could play with myself as soon as I had kicked him out of my apartment, couldn’t I?

Terror filled me, to my amazement, at the thought of ending the sponsor agreement again, certainly for the final time. If I said no, Christian would never return no matter how I begged. Nor did I want that, really—not the slightest bit.

But another fear, the crawling fear of the punishment, the shameful training—even of tidying up my apartment—seemed to balance on the opposite end of the scale.

The remaining rational part of my brain tried to convince me yet again that I had begun to lose my mind, but the rest of me knew with absolute assurance that in fact Christian had simply laid out the two paths actually before me. Both of them held fear, but adults sometimes have to make that kind of choice.

I looked up at him, my brow creasing hard and my inner cheek between my teeth. Christian looked back at me, the warmth in his eyes making my decision for me, it felt like. He raised his eyebrows, encouraging me to say it—to figure out how I must say it, as a sort of first lesson of the rest of my submissive life.

My mind went back to the night he had taken me in hand the first time—only six nights before, but somehow on the opposite side of a chasm that had opened in my life. Or maybe that night actually was the chasm… the darkness into which I had fallen, and then tried to get back out of, only to find that I belonged in the abyss… that the abyss seemed dark but actually held a realm of wonder and of joy and…

Love. You are absolutely falling in love with him.

Six nights ago, when I had lain over the back of my couch, Christian had made me ask for my punishment, just as he had just done here in my bedroom, strapped down to my bed. He hadn’t made me say it, then: he had let me request my first pussy spanking by reaching back and spreading my thighs to show him where I needed discipline.

Now, though, he demanded more. I knew I had to use words—terrible words. Looking up at him, still chewing on the inside of my cheek, I wanted to protest like the petulant little girl I seemed to have inside me still. I wanted to say that I had reinstated the sponsor agreement—hadn’t I?—and didn’t that mean that I accepted his brutal domination? Why did he have to hear the words?

But I knew why. If I wanted this to be about more than sheer kinky pleasure, I had to grow. I had to give up the stumbling and the path of least resistance. This gorgeous billionaire wanted to take care of me—but only if I could show that I deserved his attention as more than a fuck toy.

“Please…” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. “Sir… please spank my pussy.”

Christian smiled, and raised his hand from between my spread thighs. I felt a flush of heat in my cheeks as I noticed how his fingers glistened in the dim light coming from the bathroom, shamefully slick with my wanton need. My eyes went to the rigid shaft he held in his other hand, watching the hypnotic rhythm of his self-pleasure, his all-too-obvious enjoyment of the correction he would administer to the naughty bed girl he had purchased.

I would be more than a fuck toy, yes, but I would also remain just that, and I would receive the harsh training suitable for a wayward, disobedient fuck toy when she displeases her keeper. The thought made me cry out in desperate arousal, made my hips jerk upward as if to meet the violent downward movement of Christian’s hand, before he even began to bring it down.

Then he did bring it down, with a resounding slap that had a humiliating wetness to it as well. When he lifted the hand again, it dripped with my need. I whimpered, and raised my eyes to his face, to see that he had fixed his attention downward, an expression of careful assessment on his brow. He brought the hand down again. My whole body shuddered and the whimper became a sob as the pain began to cut through the arousal and the lingering pleasure.

He spanked me, and spanked me, and spanked me. By the fifth swat I had begun to writhe, trying to twist my thighs and move my backside so urgently that I wondered if I might break the headboard. Selecta, however, obviously knew what they were doing when they built these special apartments for wealthy men to fuck and to discipline their bed girls: the straps that held my thighs raised and spread didn’t give a millimeter. When I managed to squirm to the side a little, Christian didn’t even reprimand me; he simply kept aiming his hand precisely and spanking my pussy hard and fast.


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