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)
He smiles at me indulgently. “At a certain level of society, it’s no longer about hanging out, as you put it. It’s about maintaining connections. My personal feelings about people, and their personal feelings about me, don’t matter at all. What does matter are the bonds forged between us. Your misbehavior is a source of entertainment to many, not just to your little Internet friends.”
“So I’m helping by running away?”
“In a certain light.”
He reaches down, takes the hem of the dress, and pulls it up and over my head in one smooth motion before he bends me over the bench and secures me in place, leather cuffs going around my wrists and ankles. They ensure I have less than no chance of escape until he is done with me.
“You have such a pretty ass and pussy,” he says. “I could whip and fuck it for days on end. Which is fortunate, because that’s clearly the kind of handling a pet like you requires.”
Marcus
I knew they’d give me shit when I came in with Charlie. Everybody has seen that damn video. But what I am about to do to her isn’t about punishment. It is actually a reward. I can feel the affection and connection growing between us.
She wasn’t just jealous of Adaline. Most women are. She was prepared to defend herself, and our connection in front of her. A lot of women would have become sullen and quiet, or perhaps gotten angry at me, or maybe even become overly aggressive.
Charlie navigated the interaction with pitch perfect bitchiness that was not at all out of place. My sweet little pet is earning respect and her place among the members of the Embassy.
So I choose a flogger—a big, heavy, leather-tasseled implement. It looks fearsome and can be brutal if used harshly, but tonight there is nothing harsh on the agenda. There is only reward.
I let the tassels drape over the bare skin of her back and thighs. Her underwear snugs up into the crevice of her cheeks and sex, giving me a perfect canvas for a light whipping that I can tell she is enjoying.
The moment she realizes I am not trying to hurt her and that the implement can be used to lull her into a state of quite happy subspace, with soft draping motions followed by thuddier impacts that have no sting to them at all, she relaxes.
I take my time with my pet. I work the flogger up to her shoulders and back to her buttocks. I tease her thighs, making everything a soft, hot pink.
Her eyes are half-closed, her lips turned up in a semblance of a smile. I recognize that expression. She is absolutely flooded with endorphins and dopamine and oxytocin, a chemical cocktail that is even now bonding her to me as she accepts not only a flogging, but the very bondage she once panicked at. She didn’t even notice it this time.
I am starting to think that my pet’s submission is going to be a kind of perfection I have never experienced before. She is beautiful in this moment, absolutely transcendent, giving me her trust and her body to use as I like.
Charlie
I lose track of time underneath Marcus’ flogger. It is obvious he has used this before. He knows exactly how to make it land so that my skin tingles and then settles into a lovely warm glow. I find myself starting to feel somewhat sleepy, almost drunk. It’s a sensation I’ve never had before, and I find it quite a relief after the almost constant stress of recent events.
I trust him. I shouldn’t. I know intellectually that he is one of the most effective criminals the world has ever seen, and all of his wealth and power are a testament to his refusal to play by the rules. But my body trusts him, and I am a captive of my flesh.
At some point, I feel him loosen the cuffs and free me. I half expected him to do something else to me, something that would take advantage of this soft and open state, but he seems to respect it for its own end. He could do anything to me. He could use me for his pleasure. He could turn my softness to sadness or to pain, but instead he picks me up, cradles me in his arms, and carries me out of the Embassy.
My legs are too schmoopy to walk. That’s not really a word, but it perfectly describes how I feel right now. Everything he has done to me has combined to make me feel absolutely high. I’m not feeling any of the pain he inflicted anymore. I feel like I am literally made of clouds. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d drugged me. I’m as sober as I have ever been, chemically speaking. But I am high as a fucking kite.