Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I thought about the Arctic installation I’d glimpsed during my shameful climax at the Synergy Group meeting. The concrete bunker squatting on permafrost, the excavation equipment, the sense of something massive being built in secret. Aksel needed to know what I’d seen. That’s why I was here, I told myself. Not because my body craved his touch, his discipline, his ownership. This was about stopping Takken’s corruption, about saving Jagland.
The lie tasted bitter even in my own mind.
My fingers trembled against the steering wheel as I tried to gather courage. The worst part of the past week hadn’t been the denial itself, though that had been torture enough. It had been the way I couldn’t stop thinking about Aksel’s promise—that he would claim my bottom when I’d earned it. The very thought made me burn with mortification, yet in the shower each morning, I found myself unable to resist exploring that forbidden place with increasing boldness. My fingers would circle and press, testing, imagining what it would feel like when he finally… I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to complete the thought even in my own mind.
The burner phone buzzed suddenly, making me jump. The silver raven glowed on the screen.
You have thirty seconds to enter the building, or you’ll feel Freya’s Bridle.
A whimper escaped my throat as I clenched hard between my thighs, my body responding instantly to his threat. On shaky legs that barely supported me, I fumbled with the car door and half-ran toward the warehouse entrance. The metal door swung open before I could reach for it, and strong hands pulled me inside.
Aksel’s arms wrapped around me, crushing me against his chest before I could even catch my breath. The door slammed shut behind us, sealing me into his world once again. His fingers moved to my throat with practiced efficiency, and I felt the soft leather of the training collar settling into place, the silver runes cool against my heated skin.
Then his mouth was on mine, hard and demanding, claiming me with a kiss that drove every thought from my head. His tongue invaded my mouth as his hand moved down my back to grip my bottom possessively, his fingers digging into the flesh through my skirt. The touch there—where I’d been so shamefully fixated all week—made me sob up into his mouth, my knees buckling.
He held me upright with that one hand on my backside, keeping me pressed against him as he devoured my mouth. I could feel his hardness against my belly, could taste the faint hint of coffee and something uniquely him. When he finally pulled back, I was gasping, tears streaming down my face from the intensity of it all.
“My perfect little bed thrall,” he murmured against my ear, his hand still kneading my bottom through the fabric. “Did you do as I commanded? Did you keep yourself bare and ready for your Herra?”
“Yes,” I whimpered, my face burning. “Yes, Herra, I… I shaved yesterday, just as you ordered.”
“And did you edge yourself? Touch that sweet fisse and that tight little røvhul?”
The crude words made me want to disappear into the floor, but I nodded against his chest. “Every morning in the shower. I… I couldn’t stop thinking about…”
I couldn’t finish my sentence. My Herra’s hand shifted suddenly, grabbing my skirt and bunching it up around my waist. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties and yanked them aside, not bothering with removal. Before I could even process what was happening, his finger pressed against my bottom-hole, that place I’d been touching all week at his command.
“About this?” he asked, his voice dark with satisfaction as his finger pushed inside.
I cried out, my whole body going rigid against him. The intrusion was so much more intense than my own tentative explorations in the shower. His finger was thicker, rougher, more demanding as it pressed past the tight ring of muscle. The sensation shot straight through me like lightning, and suddenly I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm I hadn’t seen coming. A week of denial had left me so sensitized that this single violation threatened to undo me completely.
“No,” I sobbed, my hips bucking helplessly. “Please, Herra, I can’t—I’m going to—”
“You will not come,” he commanded, his finger pushing deeper, stretching me in ways that made my vision blur. “Not until I give permission.”
The order made me whimper desperately, my inner walls clenching around nothing while that forbidden place gripped his invading finger. I was so close, balanced on a knife’s edge of pleasure and humiliation. My legs shook so badly I would have collapsed if not for his arm around my waist.
“Such a needy little røvhul,” he murmured, twisting his finger slightly. The movement made me see stars. “Already learning to love having your Herra’s finger in your bottom. Soon you’ll beg for my cock here.”