Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I don’t know what he is. He’s my lover, maybe. I don’t know how much choice I have in any of this, but he’s not really forcing me either. I could ask the teacher myself. Instead I’m letting him take wicked advantage of me again. When this started, I didn’t ask for any of it. But now I am starting to feel differently. He’s trained me to accept these demands and to perform for him. And I haven’t fought him, not as much as I should have.
I feel guilty for the fact that my aching pussy is getting wet again as I service Sam. He’d hate me thinking of him as a Sam. He doesn’t like the familiarity of Samuel.
Sam. Sam. Sam. I think it over and over again, relishing the rebellion of my private mental space as his cock slides all the way to the back of my mouth.
“Such a good little girl,” he praises me. “Your pussy didn’t get used last night, did it? And it’s not going to get used today either, my spoiled little fuck pet.”
He fucks my mouth until he comes, using my lips like a pussy, because like he said, he fucked my ass last night. I can feel that, too. A dull ache between my cheeks, and a tenderness on them. I am going to be feeling the effects of this attempt to get one back on him for a while, I think.
“Swallow,” he instructs me, holding my head on his cock until I do just that, taking him down into my belly.
“Good girl,” he says, pulling me back up the bed. “I’ll talk to your professor. But that means you are going to have to accept this arrangement between the two of us. Are you ready to be my personal fuck toy pet?”
“What does that mean?” My eyes are wide.
“It means you do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it. Every part of you is mine, whenever I want it.”
That was already true, so what do I care about agreeing to it now. He was already taking every part of me, already dominating me relentlessly.
“Do you really want me to agree to that?”
His brows lift. “Smart girl,” he says. “No, I suppose I don’t. I’ll talk to your lecturer. But today, you go back to school, understand? I’m putting you on a plane this morning.”
He drops a kiss on my forehead and rolls out of bed to take a shower. I watch him go, admiring the lines of his body as he moves. He’s a muscular, powerful creature who is more than capable of destroying anything he wants to, both mentally and physically. The term apex predator should have been designed with him in mind.
I hear the shower turn on, and I smell the scent of soap floating from the not quite entirely enclosed room. He left the door ajar a little.
“Laura!” he calls out. “Order some room service for breakfast, would you?”
I sit up in bed, wrapped in the blankies, and I peruse the menu. I’ve never ordered room service before. A stack of pancakes is twenty bucks. They have to be some really nice pancakes. He didn’t say how much I should spend or how much I should get. I decide to just use my best judgment.
I feel very taken care of, which is fucked, because I know I’m being preyed on. At a certain point the two things blend together in a way that makes them very hard to discern from one another.
“You get it ordered?”
“Mhm,” I say as he gets out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Go get cleaned up,” he says. “I’ll take care of the food when it gets here.”
I do as he says, not because he told me to, but because a shower sounds amazing when you’re covered in the dry yet somehow sticky seed from Psychopath Sam. I giggle to myself at the disrespectful alliteration. He’d hate knowing I was thinking of him that way.
Sam
She’s happy.
I’m not sure I ever intended to make her happy, per se, but the sound isn’t unpleasant. She splashes around in the shower while I get dressed, and about two minutes after I am prepared for the day, a knock at the door heralds room service.
A young man in a hotel uniform pushes a trolley into the room, replete with silver dome-covered dishes. I wait for him to take ours off and put it on the table, but he simply parks the trolley next to the table and proceeds to unload the entirety of the trolley onto the table. There are eight plates in total, which are revealed to be pancakes, French toast, bacon and eggs, croissants, avocado toast with runny egg and chili flakes, Froot Loops, custard donuts, and a plate of sausages and hash browns, all accompanied by coffee and juice. There is enough food here to feed a small army.