Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

And that’s when I knew I’d made a mistake.

A fatal one.

His cigarette was still in his fingers as he charged back to the bed and tore the covers from my naked body. My legs rose to my chest on instinct, but it made no difference. He lunged and grabbed my wrist, dragging me across the mattress to his side while I shrieked in terror.

I wasn’t expecting the firmness of his grip on my hair, wasn’t expecting the way he yanked and twisted me until my face was up at his and he was blowing cigarette smoke in my open mouth.

“You’ll give me your fucking all,” he hissed. “I bought it, I’m fucking taking it. Every single fucking bit of you. However the fuck I want you. Whenever I fucking want you.”

I couldn’t fight the shudder. “Sorry, sir,” I whimpered. “That’s not how I meant–”

“You fucking meant it,” he said. “And you’ll learn your fucking place here. Your place with me. You’ll be exactly what I want you to be. Who I want you to be. Doing whatever the fuck I want you to be fucking doing.”

I cried out as he dragged me from the bed and dropped me to the floor. Cried out again as he dragged me to the window and tossed his cigarette outside.

“It begins here,” he said, one hand tight in my hair and the other gripping my arm.

He was strong. Brutal. His fingers pinched to the bone.

I didn’t fight as he pulled me to my feet and dragged me along after him. He tore through the doorway and onto the landing, and I felt so exposed in open surroundings with my shivering nakedness on display.

My eyes were dashing wild around the place as he opened a door to our left and shoved me on through into darkness. I landed hard on wood, feeling around me for some kind of bearings before he switched a light on.

The sight was enough to knock the breath from me.

The bed in the corner looked rigid and harsh, the header and footer sculpted from bars of steel. Restraints hung loose all around, ready for action, a chair to the side looking like some kind of medieval torture device with its struts spread wide.

There was a rack against the far wall. Hoists and wires on the ceiling.

And cameras.

Cameras everywhere. Mounted on walls. On stands. On the corners of the bedposts.

The whole room was a studio. An ocean of mechanical eyes ready to pounce on my weakest moments.

I was terrified.

And ashamed.

I felt ashamed.

But there it was again. Quiet but real. The wild thrill ran deep. Tickled where it shouldn’t.

“Welcome to your room, little slut,” he told me, and my heart pounded. “This is where you belong. In darkness at my whim. Taking what’s given with grace and thanking me dearly for every little scrap of fucking kindness.”

I couldn’t even nod, just stared up at him.

“In sixty days you’ll know nothing but what I give you. You’ll live by my command. Breathe at my breath. Feel whatever the fuck I want you to feel and nothing more.”

I kept staring. His eyes were dark. Wired.

Beautiful.

“You’ll be mine,” he said. “Body, mind, and fucking soul. By the time you’re done, you’ll be begging to stay. You’ll have to scrape the dregs of life back from the weeks of pure fucking abandon you’ll learn to crave. Understand?”

I managed a tiny nod. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good,” he said. “Then let’s get fucking started.”

My throat turned dry as he headed for a stand of electronics at the far end of the room. I watched the camera lights flicker then turn green, a whole world of focus springing to life.

I wrapped an arm across my bare breasts and made sure my legs were closed tight, avoiding the inevitable exposure, even though my clit was tingling.

I could barely believe that some filthy little part of me wanted this.

Even in the face of becoming such a wanton, used slut, I wanted it.

Wanted him.

“The world will be watching,” he told me as he approached. “A world of men who will pay good money to use you for themselves soon enough. This is just the beginning.” He pointed to the bed. “Up there. All fours. Show me that pretty cunt.”

I felt sick as I got to my feet.

I was scared. Hungry. Thirsty. Desperate.

Still I let out a shuddery breath as I got into position.

I spread my knees and arched my back, offering my pussy to both him and the cameras behind. The mattress dipped as he knelt up after me.

“Such a pouty little slit,” he said and pushed my thighs further apart. He shunted me along and down, lining me up for the camera on the far bedpost. The one opposite was right on my face. “How does it feel to know your dirty little treasures are being viewed around the world?”