Page 95 of Morally Gray Daddies

“I… How am I supposed to answer a question like that?” I implored.

He paused for a moment, thinking. “You know what, you’re right. Perhaps it’s better if you don’t. Leaving it up to spur of the moment might be our best option. It’ll have the added benefit of not telegraphing an impression that we discussed this in detail pre-coitus.”

My god, how could he be so… methodical about this?

“Well, unless you’ve anything you’d like to add?”

“Please don’t do this.”

He cocked his head. “Changing your mind? You’d rather I use Ms. Delgado?”

“No. Neither of us.”

He smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” was all he answered as I fought to keep from crying.

I shot a glance toward Sonja, spotting the tears streaking her cheeks. For a millisecond, I caught her gaze, then she turned away, looking down into her lap.

“Okay,” he said, pulling my attention back to him. “Once I start the camera, I won’t be stopping until I’m finished. Have you any acting experience, Ms. Taryn?”

I scrunched my brow. “Uhh… no.”

“Pity. Well, I’m sure you’ve watched a sufficient amount of porn in your life, so if you’ve ever seen any of a non-consensual variety, might I offer some advice? Play it up like one of the actresses in those do.”

“Fake it,” I said softly.

“Yes, at least to a certain degree. Like most women, I’m sure you’ve had sexual partners you’ve had to do that with before.” He held up a finger. “However, if it’s too over the top, they’ll catch on, so don’t overdo it.” He gave me an appraising look. “Are you a masochist, by any chance?”

I swallowed. “I… I don’t really think of myself that way.”

“Ah, well. As I mentioned, I’ll be hurting you, so most of the time you probably won’t need to pretend. But if an opportunity arises to emphasize how much pain you’re in, it certainly couldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll… try.” I didn’t know what else to say. In that moment all I could think was… what did he expect me to say? Everything about this was becoming more and more surreal.

“Good girl.” He pulled out his phone, flipped open the little stand at the back, then set it down on the coffee table. “So,” he said, turning back to me, “shall we begin?”

You can still back out…

Except I couldn’t.

“Yes.”

“Excellent,” he replied quietly.

And then he slapped me across the face. Hard.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. He’d asked me if I’d had any acting experience, but the suddenness of the blow, the savagery of his attack threw me into a panic-mode I didn’t need to fake. Before this he’d seemed calm, business-like. Now…

I cried out, but before I could do anything else he had his hand knotted in my hair, wrenching my head back.

“Look at the camera, you fucking slut,” he snarled ruthlessly.

Searing pain streaked over my scalp as his fingers tore strands of my hair free. “Please! Fuck… stop!” I screamed.

“Look at the fucking camera,” he demanded viciously.

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