Tex Read Online Books Novels by Dahlia West (Burnout #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Biker, Drama, Erotic, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Burnout Series by Dahlia West
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 126098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
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"What?"

"You told Sabrina we were a long way off from something. But you didn't say what."

He furrowed his brow. "That's not your concern, pet. And not your place to ask."

"How could it not be my place to ask? What is it? Are you going spring something on me that I can't handle? Well, what happens then? Is it over because you kept this thing from me that you want, but wouldn't tell me about and it turns out I can't do it?"

"This is not a discussion we're going to have." He picked her up, set her on her feet and got up himself. "Come on. You still need your lunch."

"No," she balked. He turned to stare at her. "What do you want?"

"Pet, you are dangerously close to a punishment. You do not question me. I will tell you what you need to know when I feel you should know it. And not before. Now let's go."

"You want a slave, don't you?" Abby blurted out.

Mark narrowed his eyes at her. "I've already told you I don't."

"But how do I know that's true? How do I know you're not just- just- brainwashing me so I'll accept it when you finally tell me that's how it's going to be?"

"Brainwashing you? Do you hear yourself?"

"But you already have! I sit on the floor, I eat from your hand, I walk on a fucking leash! I'm your dog!"

"For the weekend! For this weekend so you can work out whatever issues you've got."

"Well, I don't think it's working!"

"Really? Because you've got a four inch stainless steel butt plug in your asshole that says I know exactly what I'm doing. You are tired and hungry and it's affecting your judgment. You need to eat and then rest for a while. Now, stop arguing with me and let me take care of you. And trust me, pet, you are not my dog. I've treated you very, very well so far, but if you keep pushing me, I swear to God I will start treating you like a dog and I promise you that you will understand how easy you've had it these last two days."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You do treat me like a dog. And that's what you've wanted all along! The only thing missing is a cage and a shock collar."

"Fine. You're a dog."

He surged forward. She froze in fear and then tried to back up, but he caught her by the ring on the collar. He took out the leash from his jeans pocket and clipped it on. "Move, bitch." He jerked the chain and she was forced to follow him. He led her to the bedroom.

She was too terrified to say anything. He flung open the dresser drawer, grabbed a pair of stainless steel handcuffs and had one on her wrist before she even knew what was happening. He brought her other arm around behind her back and secured it.

"Come, bitch. It's time to eat." Mark led her down the hallway with her hands cuffed behind her back. He led her into the kitchen and wrapped the leash around one wrist as he opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a pyrex dish of what appeared to be a marinating chicken breast and dumped it unceremoniously into the garbage. He tossed the dish into the sink.

Abby supposed that was going to be her lunch. He opened a cabinet door, brought out a bowl, and slammed it on the counter. He opened the pantry, took down a box of cereal and dumped some into the bowl. He led her over to the sink. "Kneel, bitch."

"Mark. Sir," she corrected.

"Bitches don't speak. Ever. Speak again and I will gag you and then no lunch for you. Kneel."

She knelt down as carefully as she could. Not that she cared about eating lunch, but she was seriously wary of pissing him off further. He set the bowl down in front of her. "Eat."

He dropped the leash, stepped on it with his foot, and then turned away from her, running the water in the sink. He started washing the dishes and she looked down at her bowl. She bent down precariously and took a bite. As far as punishments went, she wasn't sure if she preferred a spanking or this. At least if she was being spanked, Mark was looking at her, paying attention to her. He was focused solely on washing the dishes and the only thought he had for her was standing on her leash so she couldn't run away. Like a stray dog.

She continued to take small bites of the cereal to please him. She'd eaten almost the whole bowl when he picked it up off the floor, dumped the rest in the trash and washed the bowl and set it aside to dry.

He slid the leash out from under his boot and tugged it. She got to her feet and stumbled after him. He stopped in the bedroom and grabbed the two padlocks from the nightstand drawer along with a set of keys. He led her into the bathroom. He turned her around, padlocked the collar to her neck and tugged the leash down. She immediately knelt down. He locked the end of the chain to the bolt in the floor. He used the keys to unlock the handcuffs from her wrists. Then he left. All without saying a word.


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