The Virgin and the Beast (Stud Ranch 1)

Fucking pet.

The word stings and cuts through the haze of lust. God, would I so quickly give up my self-respect for one little orgasm?

I don’t need this asshole for those anyway. I can take care of it all by myself, thank you very much. He said no pleasure is allowed except what he gives me. But he leaves all day to take care of his farm or ranch or whatever the hell it is he does all day.

While the master’s away, the mice will play.

I am not his pet. I am my own master. Always have been and always will be.

I turn my face away from him stubbornly, shove my dress down, and scamper off the table. I ignore his dark laugh behind me as I run up the steps toward my room.

***

He knocks on my door and invites me to breakfast the next morning, but knowing it will just be more of him taunting me with food I can’t have, I ignore him and stay under my covers. For once he doesn’t drag me down to torture me with the smells and sights of food I can’t eat.

I stay in bed until I hear the boom of the front door closing that signals he’s left for the day. Then I throw off the covers and run to the window just to make sure. And yep, just as I thought, he’s headed out, a wide brimmed hat on his head and tight-fitting Levi’s hugging one truly fine ass—

I jerk my eyes away from my captor’s backside and go back to bed.

Time to remind myself that no man has control over me or my body. I’ve never been a super sexual person—or at least, before now, I’ve never allowed sex to consume so much of my thoughts. And I’ve certainly never let it influence my actions.

I just need to regain perspective and take back my power. Remind myself there’s nothing Xavier has to give me that I can’t take care of all on my own.

I dip my hand underneath the covers. I touch myself and try to let my mind wander. Okay, time to pull out all my best fantasizing material.

Except all the fantasies I used to use to get myself off seem pale and vapid compared to what real sex is actually like.

And my only experience with the real thing is with Xavier.

Who is the last person on earth I want to be thinking about right now.

But when I close my eyes, it’s his firm fingers I imagine roaming up my thigh and teasing my pussy lips. When I slide my own fingers inside myself, I can’t help imagining they’re his. With my other hand, I pluck at my nipples the same way he did.

I arch and cry out under my ministrations.

I think of the way his eyes glitter with dark lust and how it felt when he shoved that huge cock so deep inside me, again and again and again—

I come with a piercing cry, my whole body spasming with pleasure.

The orgasm is quick and sharp, and all too soon over.

It was okay, but nothing like the full body fire that erupts when he touches me. When his cock penetrates me.

I shudder even thinking the phrases and I start touching myself all over again.

And then again.

And again

It’s one day-long masturbation session.

I masturbate in the shower. And afterward when I’m drying off, laying on my bed. I masturbate while I’m trying again with the bobby pins at the kitchen lock, pausing to drop to the floor and shove my fingers roughly in and out of myself while I rub my raw clit hard and deep until I scrape yet another orgasm from my exhausted body.

It’s barely pleasurable anymore, but if this is what it takes to break free from Xavier’s strange hold over my body, I’ll do it every day while he’s out.

Still, I’m done for now. I’m so tired. Something they don’t warn you about when you try fasting—it’s so tiring.

It makes sense if you think about it. Without any calories going in, you’ve got nothing but your own stores of fat to burn for energy. I’m no dainty little flower—there’s plenty of extra to burn, but I’m still plenty tired just drinking only water for two days straight.