Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 38541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes, but do as I’m instructed. I stroll over to him, my heels sinking into the lush carpet, and I sit, making sure I plop down heavily on him in the hopes of hurting his leg a little. I may not weigh much, but maybe my bony ass will leave a bruise. He makes no sign of distress at this. He just wraps one arm around my waist to pull me closer, pressing me into his erection. At the feel of his cock against my thigh, I’m the one who ends up gasping.
He’s huge all over, evidently—something I really do enjoy about him. He makes me feel feminine when I'm near him. His height means he always towers over me, even when I wear my most ridiculous heels. Not only that, he easily has to weigh more than two of me. Not many men make me feel small and delicate, but Charles does.
He leans in, taking my earlobe in his mouth, nuzzling me and making my eyes fall closed. It’s a sweet soft contact, but he soon bites me, making me jump and my eyes pop open.
“You fully belong to me.” He proves his point by using his free hand to cup my thinly covered pussy. “When you act like a brat, I don’t have to storm out of the room to control myself. No, now I can bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you apologize, and until you beg me to let you cum. I’ll make you promise to be a good little girl or I’ll keep punishing you.”
I moan at his words, pushing myself into his hand. “You like that kitten? Because I’ll fuck you on every surface of this goddamn casino until you scream the place down.”
I’m so lost in his words and in this sensation that all I can do is beg. “Please.” How does he keep doing this to me? One second I want to smack him, and the next I want him to make good on his threat. I'm going with being completely under-sexed as the reason for this. My body is ready to go and doesn’t care that my mind can't seem to keep up with it.
“Already begging. I knew you would. It’s who you are.” Before I can ask what he means, he pulls his hand out from between my legs. I bite my lip to stop myself from protesting, and watch as he picks up the paper he dropped down in the seat next to him. Pulling me a little closer, his arm tightens around me before he starts reading.
“Number one, you will at all times carry a cell phone with which I will provide you. Whenever I text or call you, you will respond immediately.”
That doesn't sound too bad. I always have my phone glued to my hand.
“Number two, you will always wear skirts or dresses with no underwear. I want nothing coming between me and what’s mine.”
I just nod my head in agreement. I also always wear skirts; it’s the best way to show off my heels, but I’ve never gone without underwear. I guess I should be thankful we live somewhere warm.
“Three, all meals are to be eaten together, and by my hand.”
“Like, you make them?” I ask, wondering about his strange wording.
“No, kitten, I mean you sit in my lap and I feed you.”
I’m starting to think I’m not going to like some of the Mistress Contract rules.
“Four, where I go, you go.” And there it is. I wouldn't have to wonder what he was up to. I would know if there was another woman, though I don't really think there would be. I’d never seen him with one before, even though they were always throwing themselves at him. But in all fairness, I didn't think he was going to bust out all this kinkery either. “Unless I tell you to be someplace else,” he finishes.
“So you want me to pretty much be your assistant again, but this time you get to fuck me when I annoy you.”
“Watch your mouth, kitten.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Instead I just glare into his dark eyes, making him flash his perfect white teeth at me. It’s then it hits me that I’ve never seen him smile like that before, and I can't help but stare.
“No, you're not my assistant, I have someone for that. You’re my submissive, and I’ll want you by my side for whatever I might need—reading me my emails while I eat your pussy, sneaking you under my desk to suck my cock to get me through boring meetings, or just laying you naked across the couch in my office so I have something beautiful to stare at all day.”
I’ve heard of Dominant/submissive couples before, but that seems a little over the top, even if my body seems to find the concept intriguing. This is Vegas; everything happens here. Sex is openly talked about, and no subject is taboo. And for some reason, the first thing that pops out of my mouth is, “Do I have to wear a collar?”
I can't decide whether I want him to say yes or no. He sits and studies my face for a second.
“Yes.”
Yet another question pops out my mouth, and I wish I could take back. “Do you always collar your women?”
“No, I don’t have women.” He says the word in a tone that implies he’s annoyed I asked. “And no, I’ve never collared anyone before, but with you I seem to be a little more possessive.”
He traces his finger along my neck where the collar would be, and for some reason it makes me wish I had it on now. I’m curious how the weight of it would feel, and what it would be like to be possessed in that way.
“Speaking of the possessive tendencies I seem to have around you, that leaves me with my final two rules. You’re never speak to another man unless I grant you permission…” Before I protest, he finishes my thought for me “…Except those men you consider your family.” I should object, but those are the only men I talk to unless I’m working, and I seem not to be doing that for the time being, so the point is moot. It’s best to pick my battles with a man like Charles.