Own My Soul (Sixty Days 3)

He was brutal but not as brutal as the man who’d done this to me before. Brutal enough to have my eyes watering, but not enough to be screaming like a woman going mad.

My cries were quiet and honest. The swell of endorphins connected just fine with my heartbreak and formed a whirlwind of raw.

I liked it there. In the abandon.

I liked it there in the ultimate solace of giving up and letting go, just as I had with the man who’d first taken me there.

And I did let go.

I accepted my fate and let go of my love for Brandon Grant, thrashing and crying at the brutality of his brother.

The cameras were all around me. Twinkles of green on the walls. My skin was a sheen of sweat and submission, aching for more and less all at once.

My clit was on fire with the need for more. The need for hard circles coaxing me on.

“Please…” I whimpered. “Please, sir…”

I recognised the press of him when he stepped up behind and wrapped me in his strong grip. His fingers snaked between my legs and strummed hard, and I buckled. Buckled in the shackles as he drove me wild.

“Good girl,” he hissed, and my senses were alive. Wanting. Crying.

I had no real idea how battered my skin was. How savage the bruises would bloom over those fading. I had no idea how far he’d pushed me, just every sense of how close I was to climax as he rubbed my clit hard.

“Look at the cameras,” he told me, and I did. I found one of the nearest green dots and focused. I bit my lip as the groans came out of me, bucking back against his grip as he crushed my tits to my ribs afresh and kept tight hold. “So many men are coming to hurt you,” he said, and I nodded.

“I want to be hurt,” I whimpered. “I want to feel it.”

And I did.

My body really was as fucked in its tuning as Rebecca’s, because I really did want it.

“You’re gonna come for me like a good girl and show the viewers how much you need it,” he said, and I nodded again.

“Yes, sir.”

My heart calmed just a little at the prospect, judging by his tone that the beginning of the end was in sight. But surely not? Surely it was way too soon for any of that?

He tugged at my nipples until I whimpered afresh, but his fingers were still circling where they were needed. I could hear the wetness. Feel the wetness. Feel the damp heat trailing down my spread thighs.

My ass ground against his crotch and I felt the swell there, but there was no move on his part to free himself and push inside me. I tipped my head back against his shoulder, my lips pressed to his skin.

“I’ll take you,” I whispered. “I’ll take you, sir.”

Because I had to take him.

Surely, I had to take him.

I had to learn to take anyone who came calling, Brandon Grant be damned.

“You’ll take whatever I fucking give you,” new sir countered, and landed a few hard slaps between my legs.

“Sorry, sir!” I gushed. “I’m sorry!”

But he didn’t give me anything. Not anything in addition to his fingers back against my clit.

His rhythm was slick and smooth, his breath ragged against my cheek as he thrust his cock against my ass through his suit trousers, but he didn’t shift. Didn’t make any move whatsoever to take my pussy as his.

“Please may I come, sir?” I asked as the sensations racked up high. “Please, please may I come?”

“Show the viewers what a dirty little slut you are,” he snarled, and shoved three fingers in my open mouth.

I sucked with everything I had. Sucked and whimpered as he picked up speed against my clit all over again, because I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t feel anything more than the need to come against his touch.

Free.

I was free.

“Come for me,” new sir grunted, and I did. I came for him loud enough that my drool dripped from the fingers buried in my open mouth. I came hard enough that the chains rattled overhead, my whole body writhing.

And then my legs gave out on me, my body turning loose as I came to my senses, but it didn’t matter, because he had me. My new sir had me tight.

His mouth was still pressed to my temple, his own breaths ragged as he fought for control.

The green lights blinked, once, twice, three times through until red. The overhead lights came on brighter, but new sir didn’t back away.

Not until he’d whispered one fateful line into my ear, and squeezed me tight.

“Keep this silent on pain of death, but he’s coming for you. Brandon’s coming for you, just don’t say a fucking word.”

My heart hitched along with my breath.