Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

I spread my legs further, wide enough that I could rest my haunches down on the carpet. It cradled my weight enough that staying awake was even harder. I couldn’t fight the yawns that came calling, not even by clenching my pussy tight enough to send welcome sparks through my clit. I was a wilting lily, swaying back and forth with drooping eyes, soon past even focusing on anything other than the hazy door as I struggled to keep my attention ready for him.

And then the door handle turned.

Fuck, how I lurched up on tired thighs, head bowed low as though I’d been in prime position for him every single second since he’d walked away.

He didn’t say a word, and I daren’t look up at his face as he paced across the room to the dresser and shrugged his jacket off.

I felt invisible. A nobody.

Just as he wanted me to feel.

Nothing but a slave awaiting her master. Nothing but a girl who existed for one brutal man and his wishes.

“You’ve caused me trouble enough this evening that I should belt a hundred rounds into that sad little backside of yours,” he said finally.

“Sorry, sir,” I whispered.

“I had a well-crafted schedule that your antics disrupted,” he continued. “You’ll pay dearly, but not tonight.”

I couldn’t hold back the sigh of relief, my thighs dropping despite myself. “Thank you, sir.”

“You won’t be thanking me tomorrow,” he said, but I didn’t care about tomorrow, not right then.

He approached with big strides, and I welcomed his firm grip on my chin, tipping my face up. My eyes struggled to focus, swimming in his until my head was spinning.

“It’s been a long night,” he told me. “As you were a good girl who maintained her position, I’ll let you rest until morning.”

I doubted morning would be long coming, but that didn’t matter. I couldn’t disguise my gratitude. My smile was all real as it greeted his scowl.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You won’t be thanking me tomorrow,” he repeated, but my smile didn’t break.

“Thank you for saving me,” I continued. “I won’t forget it, sir.”

The smile that beamed back at me didn’t mirror my gratitude. It was nasty. Brooding. Full of sin and want and spite.

“Oh, you will, sweetheart.” His voice was low. “Soon enough you’ll barely be able to remember your own name, I promise you.”

I didn’t have an answer for him, and it seemed he was done. My face dropped as his hand moved away, and I tumbled forward until my hands braced on my knees.

I watched him tug his tie free and hang it over his jacket. He freed the top button on his shirt and moved to the far side of the bed, flicking on the bedside lamp in exchange for the overhead and plunging the room into low orange light.

“You are excused for the bathroom,” he told me, and pointed to the far side of the room.

It was a struggle to get to my feet, but the bedpost helped me. I heaved myself up on shaky legs, staring at him just a moment as he kicked off his shoes and dropped himself to the bed.

His position was strong. Rigid. Propped on pillows as his eyes glittered darkly at mine.

“Thank you, sir,” I whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

I felt so exposed walking away from him naked into the bathroom. The tiles were cold against my feet. The lighting cold to match as I pulled on the light and caught my reflection in the mirror over the sink.

I was pale. Sunken. Broken.

Exhausted.

I managed a trickle of pee, and my pussy was still tingling as I wiped myself dry.

I washed my hands thoroughly, and wiped a smear of alleyway dirt from my cheek. The soap smelt of jasmine. The hand towel was soft against my skin.

My nerves were rife as I finished up and dared to step foot back into the low lit bedroom.

I was expecting to be made to lie back on the carpet and make my bed like a slave dog at her master’s feet, but he surprised me and patted the plush bedding next to him.

“Come,” he said, and I walked over, hardly daring to believe he had a place for me alongside him.

I was careful as I dropped onto the mattress, being sure to keep my distance and my eyes down low. I couldn’t help but flinch as his hand reached for my wrist and gripped tight enough to pull me closer.

My heart raced as I settled onto my back at his side. I stared up at the ceiling and tried to keep my breathing steady.

“Don’t even think about moving from here,” he told me. “You sleep until you’re told you can wake.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

The pillow was welcome under my head. My eyes struggled to stay open.

My body thrummed the full length from being next to his, even though no part of me was touching him.