She knew he planned to horribly – and probably painfully also – degrade her before men who were world leaders, who she might even need to interview at some point. It wasn’t that long ago – though it seemed like forever – when she would’ve been both terrified of destroying her public persona and utterly mortified. But no longer.
He had addicted her, there was no other word for it, to ever-magnifying degrees of decadence. The decadence had grown within her, increasingly shameless and overt like a ravening beast and … The thought that everyone she’d ever want to interview might belong to his club and eventually blithely participate in her abasement flitted across her awareness with frightening lucidity.
He jerked her legs apart, her thighs rising out of the bucket and knees bent so her high
