Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

But then again, I guessed the ownership of the sixty days I’d experienced so far was of my very soul. What I’d given to Brandon Grant in the depths of my submission was exactly that, my soul itself.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get it back, even if everything Mr Sinister had blurted out was true.

“Jeez, he must have said some stuff to you alright,” Rebecca commented. “You look wrecked. He’s never said shit to me besides the obvious crap about earning my money. Whatever he’s said to you has obviously screwed your mind up.”

I shifted in place, struggling for words. “Do you really think he’s that bad? Brandon Grant, I mean?”

She flinched as I spoke his name. “Even hearing his name gives me a rush. He was always sir to me, always.”

“Yeah, I can imagine…” I continued. “But do you really think he’s that much of a bad person? I know what he does is brutal… but he seemed to help… on some level he seemed to help…”

“If he was ever telling the truth,” she finished. “The question is, if that’s the case, why are you even here in the first place? If your sixty day performance means anything whatsoever to a guy like him, why was he planning on casting you aside and why the hell were you shipped up here without so much as a word of why or a see you later?”

I had no answer. Nothing but a shrug. My stomach lurched at the realisation that my gut was still barking loud with its own want of truth, but it was based on nothing but instinct. Fantasy, maybe.

“I think I need to let it go. I think we’re both better going along with whatever this crap here involves and making a break for it on the other side,” I finished, and forced a deep breath before more tears came calling.

I didn’t want to spill any more for the sake of a man who’d seemingly be laughing to hear about them.

“The guys up here don’t know shit about the punishment stuff,” Rebecca said. “I mean they think they do, but they don’t. They aren’t the real deal. None of them. Not like he was.”

“I guess they’re just following the basics for the cameras. The people who come calling, they’ll be more about what they’re dishing out, right? More experienced?”

She nodded hard. “All the people who came calling last time around knew exactly what they were dishing out. I didn’t get the impression I was a first for anyone.”

I decided to share a part of my Mr Sinister conversation with her.

“He said I have people booked in to see me. Nearly twenty of them so far and counting. My meet ups start in just a few days. He says there will still be live performances, and still be bookings coming in, but the first sessions with random people start soon and won’t let up until the end of the sixty days.”

Rebecca’s face was a picture, even in the dimming light. Eyes far wider than I expected. “Your meet ups start in just a few days?!”

I nodded. “So he said. He said they will be daily.”

“Shit, that’s weird,” she said. “I didn’t see anyone but sir for the first thirty days at least. Preparation, he said. Pushed me to my limits and past them before anyone else even came close.” She paused. “I was so ready when they did come. Lost to anything but his voice and whatever he commanded.”

I could imagine that. Genuinely, I could.

“Mr Sinister seemed pretty sure I only had a few days before I’d be with people,” I said, and Rebecca shook her head at me.

“Shit, Paige, that stinks. I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged. “Maybe it stinks, maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I just breathe through the days the best I can, take what’s given and count on coming to the end of the sixty days with a healthy bank balance and nothing else.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe you’ll actually be better off for not walking away messed up by some guy’s crazy addictive shit.” She moved her hands from her breasts and grimaced at the darkening bruises. “Fuck, I don’t know. I still wish it was his hands on me and not those jerks smacking me about how ever they think the cameras want them to.”

I had no doubt whatsoever I’d be feeling the same.

“I don’t trust anything I know or think about the man they took me from,” I told her. “I don’t trust that my head or my heart or my soul or any part of me knows anything I need to know about Brandon Grant, but I don’t trust anything about Mr Sinister, either. I don’t trust he’s telling me the truth about anything, not even for a second.”

“Fair point,” she said. “This guy seems like a dragon. A dragon who huffs poison smoke. So what you gonna do about it? Focus on the sixty days and forget about both of them at the end of them?”