Page 16 of Violent Cravings

“Sure,” she says, looking so tense and serious that it’s almost comical to me. “And –”

“Miss Brown, have you ever been spanked before?”

My question catches her off guard, and her reaction is priceless. She freezes mid-sentence and stares at me with wide eyes, and the color of her cheeks changes to an even deeper red than before. The green of her eyes strikes me again in this moment. They’re so intense and vibrant, as if an entire forest full of dark fir trees was moving behind them.

“Have you ever felt pain that spiked into pleasure?” I add. “Have you ever been tied down, whipped, and forced to come multiple times in a row?”

Her breathing deepens as she listens to my words. She fixes her cardigan around her ample chest, as if she could hide the heaving motions that tell me everything I need to know about her. No matter if she has any experience with this type of thing or not, she’s a natural submissive. Her eyes flit away, fixating on her glass, her lap, a random spot next to the table, before she’s drawn back to me.

“No,” she breathes. Her voice is merely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Would you like to try all those things?” I encourage. “With me.”

The look she’s giving me lacks clarity. Her eyes are still big and wide, but she’s neither smiling nor frowning, instead exhibiting a neutral expression void of any emotion. Only the flickering of her long eyelashes tells me of the turmoil racing inside her head.

She’s smart, not an impulsive person prone to making rash decisions. She will say yes, but not today. Things will be different with her, I knew that before I even approached her. Buying an experienced whore to play a part she’s familiar with is one thing – paying a girl who’s never done this type of thing before, a girl who won’t fake it – can’t fake it – a girl whose submission will be brutally honest and raw, that’s a whole new story.

I like new.

I like different.

I can only hope that my knowledge of human nature doesn’t betray me with this one. Despite her expressive eyes, I find it harder to read her than anyone else I’ve been with before.

But I appear to be right about one thing.

“I need time,” she says. “To consider.”

“That’s what I expected,” I tell her.

I open the folder again, producing another, smaller folder to give to her. She takes it with both hands, eyeing it as if I’d just handed her a valuable treasure. In a way, I have.

“It’s all you need to know,” I say. “Everything you’d be agreeing to.”

She nods and places the folder in her lap, her hands resting on top of it while she continues looking at me.

“When do you need to know my decision?” she asks, sitting up straight and tense, waiting for my response.

“If I haven’t heard from you within twenty-four hours, the proposal is off the table and you’ll never hear from me again.”

She gasps in surprise.

“Twenty-four hours,” she repeats. “That’s not a lot of time –”

“It’s long enough,” I interrupt her. Then I rise from my chair, drop a quick, soft kiss on the top of her head, and proceed to the door.

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