Reluctant Consent Read Online Free PDF

bud?”
    “They
don’t work.   And I said we’d talk
philosophy another time. Zip it.”
    There.   Her brain said.   That wasn’t too bad, was it?   He commanded , I obeyed .   And my pussy is wet.   Again.
    “So
I listen to your opinions -- which you have expressed respectfully -- but I make
the decisions.   I have no desire to
micro manage your life, Denise.   But I want to know what you’re doing with your life and if I have a
problem with how you’re doing something, something important, I’m not talking
about the way you make the bed…“
    “Why
don’t you make the freaking bed?”
    “I’ll
be happy to make the bed.   Quit
interrupting me. If I have a problem with something I’ll tell you about it,
explain my expectations. You can tell me what you think.   Maybe I’ll see it your way.   If not… ”   He paused.
    She
looked up and met his eyes.
    “I’ll
expect you to follow my wishes.   If
you don’t,” Andrew shrugged, “we have a problem.   And I correct you.”   His eyes found the rear view and after a quick look he steered the car
to the edge of the highway, and idled.
    Denise
was flushed, looking down.
    “Don’t
look away from me Denise.”
    Oh my god.   We’re starting now.   This was no joke, like the friendly teasing “zip it” from earlier.   Heat crept up her neck.   She pulled air into her lungs.  
    “Bring
your eyes back here, Denise.”   His
voice was kind.   And
completely no nonsense.
    Denise
clamped down on her back teeth and forced herself to look back up.   She found a nice spot just past his
right ear.
    His
lips quirked in an almost smile. “Pretty good. Another inch this way.”
    He’d
made it easy, again.  
    She
made her eyes go the next inch and he smiled warmly at her.
    “So.   I expect. You fail. I correct. Got it?”
    She
nodded, dumb.
    “No,
Denise.   Not good enough.   I want to hear verbal confirmation.”
    He
smiled at her, apparently knowing how hard this was and yes, he was trying to
help her and she felt so grateful.   But at the same time she wanted to scream obscenities.   Do violent harm to him.   And run away.
    Denise
wet her lips.   “Got it.”  
    He
kept his eyes forward but let his hand drop to the space between them. Fingers
wriggled, beckoned for hers and she reluctantly placed her hand in his
palm.   He looked at her and lifted both of their hands, caressed her cheek with the back of
his fist, knuckles sliding down her cheekbone and resting on her mouth.
    She
pursed her lips and gently kissed his fist, immediately blushing and turning
away.
    Andrew’s eyes widened in surprise.   His cock twitched to life. Quite
unknowingly, she’d offered him a gesture of compliance and acceptance.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Three
     
     
         Denise stood in a
plush elevator as it ascended regally into the heights of The Old Arcade .   Under
normal conditions she loved this building and liked to take the old iron
stairs, climbing slowly, watching people stroll the balconies and the bottom
floor, teens blindly descending the stairs while thumbs flashed over keyboards,
mobs of younger children racing upwards, shrieking.   One of the oldest buildings in the city, it was a rare
example of Art Deco architecture and Denise could spend days here wandering
around.   Today she stood rigid in a
relatively fruitless attempt to prevent visible shaking.   One arm crossed and pressed against her
stomach, the seat of all her nervous reactions.
          This is not a big deal.   I’m getting married in order to raise
my brothers.   Women have entered
into these types of arrangements for years. Let’s face it. Loads of marriages
stay intact for convenience sake, companionship and safe sex too -- for the
lucky --though even those were often missing.   Wonder how many ’convenient’
marriages incorporate the additional joy of being married to Mr. Male
Chauvinist Spanko Freak?
          The elevator
door