by Gracia Ford
Badass
Gracia Ford
Table of Contents
Title Page
That Night With My Best Friend´s Brother
Author´s Note
Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
***Chosen By Him***
Copyright © 2015 Gracia Ford
Badass
By Gracia Ford
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted
materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Both author and editor have taken great effort in presenting a manuscript free of errors. However, editing errors are ultimately the responsibility of the author. This book is written in US English.
Author´s Note
Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
This is a standalone read with a HEA.
If you love men with filthy mouths and dirty sex, then this book is perfect for you.
This book was previously called, Until Alex by J. S. Wilder.
Description
This isn’t an ordinary gym.
Men workout with their eyes fixated on the ladies. Chicks from all over come here to get a taste of me.
I'm a fucking stallion in every way imaginable.
I'm not blind; the way they move their hips, appear with faces full of make-up and eyelashes flapping like wings when I walk around the gym - all for me
Interested? Well, you’re in luck.
The Brand New You program is taking on recruits.
Pass orientation.
Graduate with flying colors.
I'm the one with the tools the ladies pay big bucks for.
No second chances. No refunds.
See you in class...
Chapter One
The air slowly changes from Chicago’s congested air to the fresh air of the countryside. The noise, pollution and everything else seem to be a thing of the past when you leave the city.
“Ladies, off the bus. We’re here,” I shout as it comes to a halt. We’ve arrived at White Pines. I love the fresh air; makes such a difference. They step off the bus carrying their purses, yelling at the driver to get the rest of their luggage from inside the bus. I laugh. They don’t know the suitcases they left and thought were coming are safely in storage at the gym.
Ladies come here to learn, because I’m the most highly recommended teacher. Most of them are rich bitches, and they need to be to make a donation to the gym in order to be part of the program. I had to do it that way; otherwise, I could get a conviction for running a sex joint as part of the gym activities. Sure, I charge them; unofficially. Knowledge comes at a price. I’m the one with the tools the ladies pay to use.
I take their money and increase their stamina, then I show them how to perform for an audience. Having sex isn’t about ordinary, missionary style, male-on-female in a bed. It can be done in so many places and in so many ways. Women think that sex and making love are one and the same. They are not even close. I even get thank-you cards from women who have passed my program.
At times, it’s a ploy to come back. Shit, I’m not dumb. They can’t come back. If they didn’t learn what they needed to within four weeks, they’re hopeless. They weren’t going to grasp anything if they came here for four years. It’s one of those things, you either get it or you don’t.
As they get off the bus they all start looking round, like they’re fucking Alice in Wonderland. There’s nothing but cabins and a dirt road to nowhere. There’s nothing interesting to see, but the table in front of the cabins.
“Stand in line,” I shout. I need to be tough, otherwise they’ll be running rings around me. It’s my program and they need to know who’s in charge.
This is why they need to pass the first step: Orientation. That one specific day is like an audition; it says a lot about a woman. A woman has to be willing to learn in order to improve, and that means change. Some of them are as stubborn as fuck and think they’re perfect, but deep down they know they aren’t or they wouldn’t be here, in my domain.
No one is perfect, even I can admit this on a regular basis. It’s the beauty of these camps: self-awareness. If you are open to your good and bad points, then you can move forward. Accepting your true colors is the only way to advance in life. I learnt this the hard way and with my assistant, Tina, by my side, I’m still learning.
Orientation is a process of elimination. Women seem to think the way to a man’s heart is by flaunting their bodies. Apparently, give us a taste and we kneel down and beg like dogs. They’re so damn wrong. I have a big surprise in store for them. They won’t know what hit them.
“Ladies, take it off.” They make me laugh each and every time I say that to them. It’s always the same reaction.
“What?” One of the African-American ladies asked, “Take what off?”
“Your clothes,” I bark. “Get them off and stick them in the bags on the table, numbered one to six. That means everything: purses, clothes, and jewelry.” Some screech, staring me dead in the eyes, expecting me to say something else. I nod so they know I am dead serious; the redhead starts stripping her clothes off in a sultry motion, like she was in some strip joint.
While they start stripping, I start taking a sneak preview of each of their bodies. It’s natural, shit, I’m a man. Some are staring at the lady with the big boobs, looking down at their own limp breasts and feeling inferior as they sigh, then use their hands to hide them, darting their eyes back and forth as if they’re in a tennis match.
Others are gazing at the general shape of their competition. Something always makes them envious, either their stomach, butt, hips, or something they don’t have. They’re either sighing or smiling at whatever they’re staring at.
They stand naked with no cell phones and no way home. They’re anxious and worried about what’s going to happen next. During the last session one lady cried, but in the end she became my best student. She learned to fucking listen.
My eyes focus on Mia. She has the body of an angel, tits that could fit in my hand, plump, not too big and certainly not small. Her hips could grind against my cock perfectly. I find myself daydreaming about her pussy, wondering how tightly it would squeeze my dick, and I start to get excited.
I shake off my thoughts. “Right, ladies, welcome to Brand New You.” I smirk as they finally finish removing their clothes. They all stand in nothing but heels and they look sexy as hell.
Seeing them naked, I’m given a sneak peek of what I’m going to be fucking next month. I’m never disappointed. Different shapes turn me on. Fucking the carbon copy of a sexy body with a different face is a drag, so I broaden my options.
The more I visually explore their tota
l nudity, the more my cock goes wild with excitement. I’m tempted to start graduation now.
I need to keep my shit together. I take a deep breath and force myself to keep my composure. I didn’t become the best in this field by thinking only with my dick.
Polish them, Alex. That’s what you created boot camp for. Work, then play.
Their future in the BNY means they only need three uniforms in total, one for each event, and each girl is labeled with a number from one to six. That’s all they’ll be known as until graduation. After their time here they'll get a different name, once they’ve earned it. For now, they’re nameless to me.
When they sign up, it’s as if they’re signing up for a standard Omega gym membership, but they’re explicitly told about the camp and the activities they need to meet in order to graduate. It’s only after they complete the orientation that they know if they qualify to be on the BNY Program (Brand New You). Why that name? Shit, because that’s what happens after they have a taste of Alex on the BNY Program. They leave feeling brand new.
Signing up is free, but the program isn’t advertised. I don’t need to advertise. The first day the program ran two years ago, it was by verbal invite only through a few of my experimental girls.
I’m the fucking flower with the nectar and once I’m done, ladies come buzzing back for more. This isn’t a fucking fitness camp. If you’re smart, you learn the first time around because I don’t do second chances. I can’t stand dumb broads. They take up too much time. Everything has to be explained to them over and over again; that’s fucking boring.
My fucking advice to all women:
Stop.
Listen.
Learn.
The women who follow all three steps are the ones who qualify. If the doc says they passed the medical examination, and then we’re good to rock n’ roll. I love when a lady wants to be taught. They get nurtured and molded into the most desirable and fuckable women ever.
During the medical exam, they get a hormonal injection to extinguish any chance of ovulation. I don’t need any babies. Tina, my business partner and right-hand woman, screens the each applicant’s questionnaire; she’s the only person I trust. She does a psychological test on each of them to see if they can handle it. It hasn’t failed me yet. I’ve only had to reject a few women’s applications after their orientation.
Some lied and said they had no STD, but I found out. I wouldn’t be successful if I was stupid. Others lied and said they didn’t want a relationship. I found out about that too.
Some of them couldn’t even survive the orientation. Not having the strength to endure the learning course means they sure as hell can’t handle the final round. I blow minds. I’ve done research upon research when it comes to a woman’s body and how it ticks. I’m a fucking pro.
Tina screens them, gets all the information, then sends out the welcome letters along with the full schedule, which contains where they’ll be and what they’ll need for the duration. Then I expect payment in full. The orientation I stick in for free, a part of the tuition. I know these ladies are good for the money because financials are screened as well. My price is ten thousand a week, no discounts, no exceptions.
After orientation comes the required four weeks of boot camp, which is where we are today; their first day. They’re given the ultimate fitness training and taught obedience. They learn about being submissive under control, and most of these women want to make it to the goal, the grand prize. I’ve only had one lady quit, and she’d regretted it from the moment she’d heard from the other ladies that it had been the best time of their lives.
My disclosure clause keeps them from elaborating. If any of these bitches discuss what happens in camp, I’ll sue their ass. They all know I’ll do it. I’m the founder of this program. This is my livelihood. I’ll not have any other man pretending he knows what it takes to do this because some bitches can’t keep their mouth shut.
That’s right, you heard it correctly. First page of the contract consists of their name and the camp’s. They sign a disclosure agreement before they go any further. I will protect myself to make sure they don’t come out and say I raped them or something. They’ve made their donation and as a result of their contribution they were taken to a remote location for some special treatments.
The quitter, she cried for me to give her a second chance. She said she was too quick to judge and needed to come back. What she’d needed was to stick it out. Quitting is for cowards.
The qualifying ladies meet at the gym to get on the bus for boot camp. They dress like they’re going to a fucking resort, but that’s also one of the requirements. Shit, they’ve got makeup in one bag, toiletries in another, and clothes for every occasion in the next. I laugh as I watch them get on the bus with all their shit.
First step is to be attractive. I want you to fuck like a whore, not dress like one, so I need to see them ready to go without any help, because they won’t pick up men if they don’t get through the visual inspection.
I tell them straight up. My camp, my fucking rules. The ones who don’t pass the physical test are dealt with later by another member of staff. That’s not my department.
All kinds of women sign up. Fucking executives, probably leaders, all wanting a taste of Big A. Yep, that’s what they call me, Big Alex. What they really need and want is to lose control. Women think they lack happiness because they’re not satisfied in the bedroom. Their resistance to not be in control of the situation stops them from enjoying all the pleasures they could encounter in the bedroom or even better outdoors.
Some are mothers, used to controlling their children and being the head of their household. Others are married, used to controlling their husbands. I wouldn’t consider bitching and complaining the same as controlling. Several are owners or business managers, used to controlling their employees. They lack in the bedroom the pleasure they desire, not because the men don’t know how to please them, but because they aren’t comfortable in their own skin. Shit, they aren’t demanding or anything. They just need to relax. That’s what I instill in them from day one and repeat throughout.
By taking away control of what they wear, where they’re staying, or what they’ll be doing, I scare them. When they’re under my fucking wing I control them. They don’t get a say or do whatever they want to. They don’t even get to go to the bathroom unless I give them permission.
One thing’s for sure, there hasn’t been a lady yet I haven’t wanted to fuck. It’s about two fucking things to get them in line.
Stamina and control!
Chapter Two
I love our team meetings, but today I’m not in the mood. The idea of not seeing Mia for two days is playing heavily on my mind. I dropped them at camp and had to come back this morning to sort out a few things. Or rather, Tina insisted that I come in today. I just hope it’s not bad news, but something tells me it is.
There is something about Mia that makes her stand out from the rest of the group. She has the type of vulnerability that makes a guy just want to take care of her. Yet, she is bold and a hard worker at the same time. A rare type of quality for a woman to have. Now, that Carl is officially with Tina, I just hope he controls himself whilst he’s with the ladies. I´ve left him in charge for two days. Now, it feels like two days too long.
Women consider Carl good-looking. He has the typical beach boy look: blue eyes, and blond hair. He’s a little smaller than me, but one thing for sure, he’s too perfect, flawless.
“You okay, Al?”
Tina’s voice invades my thoughts as she makes her way into my office. Shit, it’s ten already? I’ve been here since eight, but haven’t gotten much work done. I’ve been lost in fucking heaven thinking about Mia in the dungeon.
“What are you thinking about? Rather, who are you thinking about?” She’s pointing a finger at me. Luckily, there’s no time to confess because all the supervisors start making their way into my office.
When I was eighteen, Pops jumped on his
bike and said, “Son, I’ve done what I needed to do since your mom left. Now, you can take care of yourself.” He handed me the keys to his worn-out gym and disappeared.
I stood there watching him, thinking, is he for real? I’ll never forget the day; it meant I hadn’t just been abandoned by my mom, but by my pops too.
At school, I was an all-star athlete. I had the body and the height at six-foot tall. My dark features, black hair, and emerald eyes were just like Pops’. He loved telling women that I was his brother; hell, he valued saying a whole load of shit that wasn’t true.
Money, he never had. Shit, a whole load of crap used to come out of his mouth. The worst part? Women used to fall for it. I’ve heard it all; celebrity women he’s never seen, let alone fucked like he claimed. My pops is a looker and a fucking liar. I don’t think he knows truth from reality. He’s lied about so many things it just became second nature.
Mom grew tired of him fucking nearly every woman he taught during his spin classes. He always managed to give out his number for private sessions and the fucking gullible broads believed him. He could never keep his dick in his pants or in the right pussy.
As a result mom drank too much. One day I came home from school—only six years old—to find she’d finished work early, packed her things, and left, never to be heard from again. She didn’t even leave a note to Pops, only me. It was a torn piece of paper laying in my room that read, “I’m sorry.”
I can’t say that I blame her for ridding herself of him. My issue has always been that most mothers take their kids with them. They don’t dump them because the man’s unfaithful. How the fuck was that my fault? I never forgave her, even to this day.
She did ask for forgiveness once, when she got her shit together and realized her mistake. She showed up and begged, but I told her to go fuck herself because she was a couple of decades too late.
As for Pops, he heard from Uncle Wayne how well the gym was doing and tried to take an active role, reclaiming his ownership by doing the same shit, spinning and fucking women. He just looked old and run down, so I told his ancient ass to leave with fifty thousand dollars in his pocket. I didn’t have to ask him twice.
