Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
But I couldn’t forget that all the expensive nerdy gifts he brought me had been purchased with drug money. Money that came from trafficking Bliss and selling innocent women like Lauren.
Not to mention that all of it was a manipulation to tame me. To make me docile and obedient so I’d work for his brother without trying to get a message back to my friends at the Bureau the second I had access to a computer.
I’d certainly become docile, despite my best efforts. He kept me drunk on pleasure, and if I did start getting too bold, a sound spanking or his cock in my mouth would subdue me.
For a few days, I’d internally railed at myself that I should have been stronger than this. But beating myself up about enjoying Andrés’ kinky games wasn’t going to help me escape. I needed my full wits about me, and self-loathing was a distraction I couldn’t afford. I could give him my body, as long as I kept my mind. Submitting kept me safe from being punished again. It was the smart thing to do, not weakness.
I didn't bother to look up from reading Watchmen when the door opened. Most days, I tried my best not to look at Lauren directly. Her eyes were so disturbing, and the only time anything sparked in them, it was resentment. She clearly would have preferred to be Master Andrés' pet to being drugged and whored out to dozens of men.
After facing the reality of captivity with Andrés, I suspected I'd prefer my situation, too.
And that realization was so disturbing, I'd rather ignore Lauren than face it head-on.
I gasped when strong fingers fisted around the collar at my nape, pulling me up off the pillows.
"Andrés," I forced out, struggling to speak with the collar tight around my throat. "What are you doing here?"
Lauren hadn't brought me lunch yet, so it couldn't be past midday. He never returned this early.
I looked up at him, alarmed at the almost violent way he was handling me. His dark eyes were fixed on his task: unlocking the chain from my collar. As soon as it fell away, he lifted me up and tossed me over his shoulder, knocking the air from my chest.
"Put me down!" I demanded, twisting in his hold as panic spiked.
He hadn't spoken to me, he wouldn't look at me. Anger was evident in the stiff way he held me, the too-sharp smack of his hand against my upper thigh.
Fear fluttered in my chest, my heartbeat picking up speed. This wasn't my indulgent captor who cradled me against his chest and kissed me. This man who held me so dispassionately scared the shit out of me. It reminded me of his cold detachment the night he'd strapped me to the spanking bench and flogged me.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I protested, squirming against him as we entered the playroom.
No. Torture room.
Because we were headed straight for the spanking bench.
I beat my fists against his lower back, thrashing like a wild thing. "No! Please."
He ignored me, handling me roughly as he pinned my body down on the bench and strapped me in place. Tears dropped down my cheeks as the false image of him I'd built in my mind shattered. He wasn't doting. He wasn't nice.
He was unstable, insane.
And every small kindness he'd shown me had been a lie, a manipulation.
"What did I do wrong?" I heaved out on a sob as terror took hold of my mind. He’d been harsh with me, but he’d always been fair, in his own way. "I didn't do anything. I didn't. Please."
Once I was fully bound beneath him, he paused and finally looked down into my eyes. His face was drawn, his scar puckered and twisted as he clenched his jaw tightly. He stared down at me for several agonizing seconds, then he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He trailed his fingers over the leather restraints that held my body at his mercy, and his fierce expression eased. He reached out and brushed at the wetness on my cheeks. I tried to cringe away, but there was nowhere to go.
"Please," I whispered brokenly. "I promise I didn't do anything wrong. Don't hurt me."
"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, his accent thick. "Much," he amended. "Hush now," he said in his usual soothing tones as he stroked my trembling body. "This isn't a punishment."
"But you're angry," I said tremulously. "You're going to hurt me."
"I'm not angry with you," he replied, calm settling over him as he continued to pet me. "My brother..." His fingers firmed on my skin, pressing too hard. He drew another deep breath and resumed stroking me, concentrating his attentions around the leather straps that held me down, as though seeing me helpless and at his mercy comforted him in some perverted way. "I need to accelerate your training," he said. "My brother is not a patient man."