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300 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 28, 2012
He knew why he was warped — watching his first porn at eleven, and violent pornography at twelve or thirteen, had created the possibilities of a monster.
“Personally , I have major issues when someone lacks the capacity to give informed consent. However, in this case I don’t think there’s anything to be done, because I don’t believe the woman in question can be brought back to her humanity.”
“The current laws criminalize anything that deliberately puts so much as a bruise on someone, whether consensual or not.



There is this guy. Lives in a penthouse overlooking a major metropolitan city. Rich Successful CEO. Respected but most people think he is sort of reclusive.
What the public and most of his employees/family doesn't know is that in his penthouse he has a room where he likes nothing better than to tie up young beautiful women, teach them to submit to his will, and make mad passionate love to them in a safe, sane and very consensual manner.






Ob*jec*ti*fi*ca*tion:
1. Treating a person as an object for use, with no regard
for a person's personality or sentience.
2. Regarding someone as a commodity; considering them
merely an instrument towards one's sexual pleasure.
Examples of OBJECTIFICATION:
1. A woman is on her back at the edge of a tall bed with
hands and feet bound together and restrained above her
head. A curtain drapes from a canopy above and puddles
on the backs of her thighs. The man about to penetrate
her sees only female genitals available for use.
2. A woman is dressed in a full latex blow-up doll costume
with durable latex 'pockets' stuffed into her orifices.
She is bound into a position giving easy access to all
three holes at a party. Her face is completely covered
excepting nose and mouth. The men do not know who
is in the costume.
"I don't need to prove I own you, and I think that's what I was doing with them. Besides, we own each other. I'm yours as much as you're mine."
Damn, it burned. It shouldn't burn this bad; she was already open--unless the paddling had made her tense. Still, this was a different kind of heat and something wasn't right. She tried to twist away, but couldn't.
He pushed forward with his hips while his strong fingers pulled back on her hipbones, locking her in place. "It's a special condom, lubricated with cinnamon for an extra special burn. It's safe and won't hurt you, though you're a bit raw from my fingers and probably have a nice blaze going."
She whimpered and moaned agreement and he added, "if it's too intense I can switch to a regular condom, but I think you need a little pain. You know how to stop it if you must but I'd rather hear you beg me to stop."
"It burns," she grasped. "It hurts!"
"Yes, I know. I want it to."
And then he was moving again, fucking her, fully aware it was hurting her, and turned on by her pain. His cock thrust into her again and again, and her pulse gained momentum until it carried her back into a frenzy of lust and pain and pleasure and bliss, and the burn grew progressively intense until the orgasm hit her like a hurricane, wiping all rational thought. She wasn't herself, just a bundle of twitching and jerking and convulsing muscles in the throes of euphoria.