Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

“Don’t even think about fighting me,” he said, and against my survival instinct I forced my hands back to my sides.

I expected panic there. A rush of adrenaline, driving me to burst away. But there was nothing.

Nothing but defeat.

Only it wasn’t defeat. Not really.

It was acceptance.

Calm.

Freedom.

My mouth dropped open as my eyes held firm on his, my shoulders slumping and the rest of my body following suit as I gave the bedpost my full weight.

“That’s better,” he hissed, and his voice was so far away.

Until it wasn’t.

My lungs knew his grip was gone before my brain did. I sucked in breath in one long burst, and the oxygen pulsed behind my eyes.

I was still gulping in breath when he thrust two fingers in my open mouth and forced them deep. My retch was right from my gut.

“You’ll learn soon enough that submission is the only option,” he told me, but I didn’t have a response. I gagged on his fingers, eyes watering as he thrust them down my throat again and again. “Fucking take it,” he said, and I tried. I really tried.

I was a slobbering mess, spit dribbling from my open mouth as my tears flowed down my cheeks. I tried to suck but managed nothing but choked gargles, fighting the urge to spew all over my bare tits and his posh suit.

“Your slut mouth has a fuck ton to learn,” he said, and the embarrassment burned through me.

There was nowhere much to move for a better position, but I tried anyway, straightening taller as he kept his fingers deep.

“I said fucking take it,” he told me, and I strained to relax my throat. His fingers were hot, thick. My mouth made horrible wet noises.

I retched all over again as he pulled his hand away, spilling spit and bile over his hand and down my tits.

“You have quite a gag reflex,” he said, wiping his hand across my face. I managed a nod. “That is something we shall soon be remedying.”

I didn’t doubt it. Had no doubt whatsoever that a man with such power would surpass my wildest expectations for pushing my soul beyond its limits and my body along with it.

I was tired. Aching. Shaking before him. Vulnerable in my nakedness.

I was nothing like the girl who prided herself as being so closed down to the outside world around the college campus. Nothing like the girl who’d sworn to herself to stand strong in the face of whatever life may throw her way.

His dark smile told me he knew it.

“Knees,” he said, and I didn’t struggle, just dropped heavily down to the carpet with my face level with his swollen crotch.

I wondered if this would be it. The moment I’d taste him. The moment my throat would choke down a whole new challenge and my gag reflex would take its next pounding.

But no.

His hand landed on my head and brushed my straggled hair back from my damp forehead with surprising tenderness. My eyes flicked up to his, face tipped high.

“It always pays to be a good girl around me,” he told me, and brushed his thumb across my bottom lip.

I wanted to buckle against his bulk and beg him to show me what being a good girl meant. Beg him to take my all in exchange for saving my sister.

Beg him all over again to let me call her.

But he stepped away.

“This is a position you’ll do well to learn,” he said. “You stay right here, on your knees, hands clasped neatly behind your back until I come for you.” He paused. “You do nothing without my permission. Not one fucking thing in this space. Do you understand?”

I managed a little nod. “Yes, sir.”

My voice sounded weird and thick. My throat vibrating like his fingers were still deep.

“From this point on, you only exist in my presence. The rest of the time you are nothing. A servant without a cause. A slave awaiting their fate. There is only me from here on in. You speak when spoken to and not before. You don’t even look at another fucking soul without my express permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said again.

“You are nothing but my little fuck-slut. Do you understand?’

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me!”

“I’m nothing but your little fuck-slut, sir.”

“Good,” he said. “Now, if you move so much as a fucking inch before I return, I’ll punish you so hard you’ll remember my wrath for a lifetime.”

My belly lurched as I nodded. “I won’t move, sir.”

I didn’t know how it was possible to stare at someone’s shoes with such a mix of emotions as I did right then.

Awe and hate. Gratitude and revulsion.

Love.

Fear.

Want.

“Not so much as a fucking inch,” he repeated, and even though my eyes were still on his shiny shoes, I could hear the smile on his face.

I shivered all over again as the door closed behind him.