Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“You’re nuts,” she breathes, but her accusation holds no heat. I grab a fistful of her thick hair and ease her head back. She’s already panting, lips parted, nipples beaded. Her eyes are hooded and I bet if I checked her pussy, she’d be sopping wet.
“Doesn’t take much with you, does it?”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, you most certainly will be. Fucked long and hard by me.”
Now she’s rocking her hips, seeking stimulation against the wooden cross.
“Ah ah,” I tsk. Time to turn in my rose for a sterner implement. I braid her hair loosely and tuck it over her shoulder, out of the way. I run my hands up and down her limbs and back, then select a flogger.
“Let’s get you warmed up.” I snap the flogger, letting the leather strands rain on her back. Her shoulders immediately relax as she accepts the sensations. The thudding strands give her a massage, with a light sting mixed in.
Her pale limbs are rosy by the time I’m done. And her back is arched, her body rising to meet the flogger.
“Good girl.”
She sighs at my praise. I slip a hand between her mons and the cross, finding her smooth folds and stroking them. Her juices coat my fingers.
How can she not realize she was born for this? Made for me? Why is she so quick to throw it away?
I grit my teeth and pull away. She whimpers but doesn’t fight when I undo her bindings and lead her to a spanking bench. She bends over willingly, offering up her bottom to my most depraved whims.
I hook my fingers into the side of her panties and jerk outwards, tearing the lace. I let the flimsy scraps fall to the floor. “Count,” I order and let my hand fall on her reddened ass. After five, her voice is choked with tears. Her hips wiggle a little but she doesn’t try to escape.
And I fall to my knees. “Good girl. You’ve earned your reward.” I tip her over further, baring her sweet cunt to my mouth. I lick up all her juices and probe her ass with my tongue as she squeals.
“You like that, dirty girl?” My cock is a steel bar pressed to the front of my slacks. I rim her dark whorl with the tip of my finger before pressing inside. “Breathe out and bear down,” I order, and smack her ass when she doesn’t immediately comply. Her tight ass swallows my thick finger and I reward her, tickling her clit until she cums with a cry.
“Fuck me.” I can’t shuck out of my pants fast enough. Thank gods I had all this furniture custom made for multiple uses. I prop her the way I want her and sink into her hot cunt, pounding her from behind. Her inner muscles flutter as her orgasm goes on and on. “That’s it, kitten. Cum on your Master’s cock.”
I grab a handful of her hair and draw her head back, keeping her back arched. Her little cries are maddening and I roar, slamming my hips into her until the sturdy bench shakes. I fuck her like a wild man. An animal. A Beast.
When I cum and pull out, she’s still shaking with aftershocks. I cup her ass, enjoying the heat searing my palm.
“Soon, I will take all of you,” I promise as I gather her into my arms. I expect her to flinch and protest—she’s gone from virgin to dungeon in a few short days—but she snuggles against me. A happy, sated sub.
“Logan,” she murmurs, twining her arms around my neck, bringing me closer to kiss me.
And I’m lost. I could lock her away forever, make her depend on me for food, shelter, human interaction, become her everything, but it wouldn’t change the truth.
Without her my life is meaningless.
I need her more than she needs me.
“Please, Logan,” she whispers softly. “Just hear me out.”
I’ve bathed and fed Daphne, and we’re back in the library, in front of the fire. She waited until we were cozy, laughing at old inside jokes, before setting down her hot chocolate and facing me. “I need to go see my father. He’s not well.”
I rise and go to stand at the mantel. Who told Daphne to speak softly during negotiations? Because it’s working. I can’t bear to meet her trusting gaze.
“I know you say he did terrible things to you—”
“He did do terrible things.” I say to the gilt framed mirror above the fireplace. The reflective surface is old and warped, obscuring my marred face.
“Logan, he’s the only father I’ve got. Please.”
“No.”
“The old Logan would help me,” she murmurs almost to herself. “He had compassion.”
“The old Logan is dead. Coded twice, remember?”
She’s quiet, but I feel the weight of her gaze on my back. Her hope. I thought it’d be easier when she knew who I was, accepted it. Fuck me, it’s not.