Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

He didn’t stay in there with me. There was no lock on the door, but the privacy was enough for me to feel vaguely human as I turned on the shower dials and stepped under the steaming flow. I lathered up with some shampoo and conditioner from the shower rack and soaped myself down with body wash. I craved so much of Brandon’s presence in the bathroom with me, just as it had been before, that my stomach cried out the whole time I was in there. But I was getting it now. I was truly getting it. Truly digesting it. Truly living with it.

He didn’t want me and never had.

He was a man in business and nothing more. A man who’d been fulfilling his function until he was done with my soppy aggravation.

And now I’d be serving his brother instead.

I took a breath as I imagined serving his brother in the way I’d served Brandon. I took another under the steam and digested the full importance of giving myself over the way I needed to. I needed to earn the money, for me and Phoebe. I needed to make sure that my bookings would hold up, and they’d still want to come for me.

I needed to be the girl I’d set out to be in my contract, and give myself willingly to whatever was coming my way.

There was a toothbrush and toothpaste waiting on the basin for me and some warm towels on the rack. I brushed my teeth and dried myself off, being sure to straighten my hair as best as I could. I was pleased to find that the mirror told me I looked ok.

The security guy was still waiting on the outside when I opened the door up. He didn’t waste any time shunting me down the corridor a few doors before opening another up to the right. I started as I realised Mr Sinister was sitting inside waiting, in a straight-backed seat next to a slutty looking lingerie fest on a table top.

“Get dressed,” he told me and clicked his fingers.

I didn’t waste any time getting on with his command, and he carried on talking.

“You’ll be a good girl for your master this evening,” he told me. “Your upcoming visitors will all be watching on screen, so you must do your absolute best to impress them.”

I nodded, hating how he felt the need to point out the obvious.

“You don’t want to be putting anyone off,” he said, and I nodded as I fastened up the red lacy bra.

“No, sir,” I told him. “I don’t. I’m well aware of my contract and the money at stake.”

His smirk was callous. “I’m glad you have some mental savvy about you.”

I pulled up the knickers, smoothing the lace onto my hips. They fitted well. The stockings came next, fishnets that felt slutty as I pulled them up my legs.

“Your time slot is in twenty minutes,” he said. “Make sure you’re ready. Not just dressed but ready for the action, understand me?”

His eyes shot to my hands, and from my hands to the juncture of my legs. I got his meaning. The filthy glint in his eye left me with no illusion.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” I replied and he got to his feet.

“I’ll be watching. So will plenty of others, you remember that.”

I don’t know how he’d expect I’d ever be able to forget that.

I was glad when the door closed behind him, pleased to soak up the remaining minutes to get myself in the zone while I was still able. I shoved aside thoughts of Brandon, as much as I could, and focused on what was coming. I absolutely had to give my best to what was coming. To who was coming.

My new sir.

Hopefully a new sir that could tempt my body into the groove his brother had carved out in me.

I ran my palms down over the lacy bra cups, imagining firm fingers tweaking my nipples. Hurting my nipples. Sliding down and stretching me wide enough to make me groan,

I pictured Rebecca’s reactions in the dungeon. How her senses had taken control and pushed her to abandonment, and I prayed mine would do the same.

That’s what I needed. The release of giving myself up to the power.

I slipped my fingers between my legs, desperate to find some wetness there, some hint that my body really did want this to happen. There was warmth. A flutter of my clit. Nothing too needy until I tugged the crotch of the knickers to the side enough to push my fingers inside myself.

I needed it.

I needed to be ready.

I forced my thumb hard against my clit and told myself I’d find my release in another man’s hands. I told myself this was ideal. Better than ideal. A way of trusting someone’s skill without risking my heart all over again. Because I wouldn’t fall for Brandon Grant’s brother. There’s no way I’d fall for the sibling of the man who’d already burned me up whole.