Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Those past sexual encounters had been physically satisfying, but emotionally empty. The equivalent of jacking off with a woman’s body. The thought sounded crude even to me, but I didn’t lie to myself. Slipping into Hannah’s no doubt exquisite pussy would be an entirely different experience, the addictively positive feelings I had for her surging at the thought of finally having her beneath me, stuffed full of my dick while I rutted into her.
Marked her.
Filled her up until my cum flowed out of her well-fucked cunt.
But first I had to open her mind to the type of dirty fucking I liked best.
Still speaking to her in a persuasive, unhurried voice, I told her that my pleasure was her pleasure, that when I was aroused, she would be aroused, and she would orgasm on command for me. I conditioned her mind for my needs and desires, shaping her own naturally submissive soul for my particular brand of kink. I couldn’t drastically change who she was at her core, or make her suddenly love lemons when she truly hated them, or even love a monster like me, but I could mold some of her responses with a butterfly touch to her psyche. I could plant the seeds of trust and absolute loyalty deep inside her mind and pray they took root.
Though I wanted to keep her here with me, I’d take her home instead. She’d wake up and realize she couldn’t remember anything after her second glass of champagne, would forget she’d ever met me, only to learn from her roommates that I had gallantly driven her home, untouched, after she’d had too much to drink. Then, when I reentered her life in two weeks with her dose of D128, I’d have an excuse to talk with her, and an in with Hannah for being a good guy who’d returned her safe and sound. Her roommates—who I would make sure to charm into liking me—would encourage Hannah to see me again.
Running my fingers through the heavy silk of her hair, I let the shiny black sheet flow over my scarred knuckles. Touching her felt good, so good I was reluctant to let her go, to take her safely home, along with pastries from an exclusive bakery and gourmet coffee. It was my way of apologizing to her for the wicked hangover she’d experience. I didn’t want her to suffer, and wished I could be the one to care for her, but the time wasn’t right.
No, I’d have to content myself with stalking her from afar for the moment.
There were cameras already set up in the public areas of her apartment, and Hannah’s bedroom, but not the bathroom. I had no desire to see either of her roommates naked, and since Hannah slept only in a long t-shirt, I’d had plenty of time to admire her pussy as she’d kick off her covers in her sleep. Watching Hannah while she lived her safe, normal little life had become one of my favorite pastimes when insomnia plagued me late at night. Sometimes, when I had a particularly stressful day, I’d watch her for hours if she happened to be home, fantasizing about what it would be like to spend my day with her. The sharp curves of her face fascinated me, her laughter made me smile, and now that I finally held her in my arms, the urge to own her, all of her, threatened to overwhelm my iron control. Without that control I’d become a monster, so it was absolute.
But oh, did she tempt me.
I still had enough time for the final phase of my plan, the real reason I’d put her under tonight. Her breaths came light and even as I said what I hoped would be magic words in her ear, ones that would enable her to fully embrace her potential as my wife.
By the time the beeper on my watch alerted me that the drug had worked itself out of her system, my voice had gone hoarse, but I’d managed to repeat my instructions three times. Hopefully it would be enough.
It had to be enough.
Soon her personal dose of D128 would be ready then Hannah would be mine, forever.
Chapter 4
Hannah
At three a.m., the twenty-four-hour diner I worked at was populated with an odd mixture of the late-shift crowd from the hospital across the street, drunk students from the bars one block over, and random people who had a craving for greasy diner chow in the middle of the night. The smell of frying food hung heavy in the air, mixed with the ever-present aroma of coffee and a hint of cigarette smoke that had seeped into the walls long before the city banned indoor smoking. Those smells mingled in an oddly comforting blend I’d grown used to over the last few years while working nights to make ends meet.