Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was just my paranoid imagination. But I couldn’t shake the certainty that everyone could see the welts through my sheer coverup, that they all knew exactly what I was.
The buffet stretched along one wall of the pavilion—fresh tropical fruit, made-to-order omelets, pastries that looked like works of art. Under different circumstances I would have been delighted by the abundance. Instead, I could barely focus on the food, too conscious of standing there with my marked bottom on display.
“What looks good?” Mike asked, his hand resting possessively on my lower back.
I tried to concentrate on the options, but my mind kept circling back to the same terrible awareness. The coverup was so thin. The welts were so visible. Behind me, I heard voices—a couple, laughing about something. Were they looking at me? Judging me?
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe just fruit?”
“You need more than that,” Mike said firmly. He guided me along the buffet, pointing out options. “Protein. You’re going to need your strength today.”
The implication in those words made me clench even as heat rushed to my cheeks. Today. When he would finally open me and take my virginity properly. When his huge cock would push inside the place that had been sealed and saved for him.
I selected some pineapple and mango with trembling hands, then let Mike add eggs and bacon to my plate. At the omelet station, the chef smiled at us—a genuine, warm smile that made me wonder if maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe no one actually cared about the marks on my bottom. Maybe this was all in my head.
But then we turned to head back to our table, and I saw her.
A woman, maybe thirty, sitting with what looked like her husband. Her eyes were fixed on me—specifically on my backside. I watched her lean over and whisper something to her companion, who glanced my way with raised eyebrows.
My face went nuclear. They’d seen. They knew. And they were talking about it.
I wanted to run. To drop my plate and flee back to the room and hide under the covers forever. But Mike’s hand was still on my lower back, guiding me steadily toward our table, and I couldn’t do anything but follow.
“Breathe,” he murmured as we sat down. “You’re doing beautifully.”
Was I, though? I stared down at my plate as I forced myself to take a bite of the bacon that even my current distress didn’t keep me from recognizing as perfectly crisped.
“I want you to think about the look on that woman’s face,” Mike said quietly.
His voice had an intensity that made me look up curiously into his eyes, my forehead furrowing as I tried to figure out what he meant. I saw it, in my mind’s eye, the expression I had taken for pure disgust. But had it been that, or had that been what I had expected to see?
“She’s envious,” Mike said in a level, utterly factual tone. “She wishes she had what you have.”
CHAPTER 27
Laura
The idea seemed to explode into my brain. I stared at Mike, trying to process what he’d just said. Envious? The woman who had been whispering to her husband about my welted bottom was envious?
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Mike’s eyes held mine with that steady intensity that always made me feel seen in a way that seemed both terrifying and thrilling. “She sees a young woman who belongs to a man confident enough to mark her. To display her. She sees submission that she probably craves but has never experienced. Or maybe she had it once and lost it.”
I glanced back toward the woman’s table, my heart hammering. She was still looking in our direction, but her expression wasn’t what I’d thought. There was something wistful in it now, almost hungry. Her husband was absorbed in his phone, completely ignoring her.
“She’s wondering what it would feel like,” Mike continued quietly, “to be taken in hand the way you are. To be disciplined when she needs it. To belong to someone who knows how to use her properly.”
My pussy clenched hard. I actually had to grip the edge of the table. Was that possible? Could other women want this? Could they look at my marked bottom and feel desire instead of disgust?
“You’re not shameful, Laura,” Mike said, reaching across to take my hand. “You’re exceptional. Most women never have the courage to embrace what they need. But you’re learning to. And that’s beautiful.”
I felt tears prick my eyes, but for once they weren’t tears of humiliation. Something was shifting inside me, some fundamental understanding trying to take root. Maybe I wasn’t broken. Maybe this dark need that lived in my core wasn’t something wrong with me.
Maybe it was just who I was.
“Eat your breakfast,” Mike said gently. “And keep your head up. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”