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)
His mood, as he left the apartment, made it very apparent to me that I needed to give him space. I had to be fair to him. He had rescued me out of necessity, sure, but he’d rescued me nonetheless and had been nothing but kind to me. We were in a sticky situation, and it was being made stickier by the fact that my cheese had slipped off my cracker.
I thought I had it together all that time. I thought my A to B plan was what kept me sane because I could lock the real me away and get to it later, if I wanted to. I figured I could turn my emotions off and just do what I was supposed to do. But from the minute he walked into my life and the minute I was getting my Point C, things had gone off the rails and I was having a hard time getting my brain back on the track. I was consumed with the need to spread my legs for him. Completely consumed with it. I’d thought I held it together all that time, compartmentalized things to keep my sanity, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I was so far off the rails I’d never get back.
After the bath I got into a red silky short nightie and borrowed his robe and then I went to his den to re-make up the futon, which had been folded back upright. I’d give him space to try to make up for the fact that I had been a total pain. I was afraid that if I didn’t give him space, he’d send me away or send me back.
If his plan was to make them think he was okay with this maybe his life would be easier if they sent him a new girl who wasn’t a crackpot, begging and pleading with him to fuck her. But as I started to drift to sleep, I started fantasizing, imagining him romantically carrying me to his bed and telling me that he wanted me, that he’d keep me and keep me safe forever.
I hesitantly slipped my hands under my nightie while under the covers and after a lot of deliberating, a LOT of deliberating, I did something I hadn’t done since a few months after I was taken in to Kruna.
We were not allowed to masturbate unless it was part of an assignment. Our orgasms were gifts granted to us by our handlers or patrons. There was a camera in my room, which I had not known but had figured out when I got punished for touching myself. The punishment had been severe, unforgettably so.
There were no cameras here. No rules about touching myself here. So I did. I made myself come twice, one huge earth-shattering O right after the other, with my fingers to my clit, my eyes closed and in my mind I was picturing his face, his lips, his tongue, his sexy hands, his gorgeous eyes, imagining his big beautiful hard cock in my mouth, imagining him petting me afterwards, holding me, touching my face in that sweet way of his, and telling me I was his good girl, his angel. His Angel.
Afterwards, I slid into blissful slumber but then woke with a jolt from a dream, a dream where they’d come in and caught me touching myself. But when they tried to get me, he’d come in and told them to take their hands off me.
“She’s mine. None of you will fuck with her again.”
Then he shot them in the head. Cleo, Rafe, Mr. Chen, and three others.
I’d woken up panting but elated. I touched myself again, made myself come again muttering “Master” as I hit it, and then I fell back to sleep.
I woke up with a start. Another dream, but I couldn’t remember what it was about. I adjusted the pillow and tried to curl back in but felt a chill creep up my spine. The room was dark but the door was now open so there was a stream of light from the hallway over my face. And then I noticed there was a figure looming over me. I caught a waft of tobacco and alcohol and a little bit of sweet-smelling perfume.
“Master?”
He laughed a little. It was more of a sneer. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said.
I shifted onto my side to face him and fluffed the pillow again.
“Why’re you in here?” he asked, but it was sort of slurred. “This shitty futon fucking sucks. You roll to the middle and it dips and buckles. It’s like a fuckin’ taco. Stupid taco bed.”
“It’s not so bad,” I whispered.
“Forgot to buy you a real bed today. Or maybe I didn’t forget.”
Huh?
“I was trying to respect you, Dare, give you space. I’m sorry about my behavior last night.”