Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

“That’s good, right?” Eric asked when my click finger hovered. “I mean they usually bid half of that, yeah? They must be keen as fuck to have a go on her.”

I didn’t give him an answer, just clicked on through to the next bid listing without hitting the accept button.

It was from one of the newer members, this time out of sync with his other new member buddy. His bid was more than acceptable. A world away from the one they’d risked a barring for when it came to Annabel Fisher just a few days previous.

He wanted bondage. Painful bondage. Suspension by tits, aided by me to get the bindings correct. He wanted to be able to whip her front with his belt without limits, then fuck her in any hole while she was still bound tight.

Standard. It was standard. But even his standard request made my gut surprisingly volatile.

Eric kept up his annoying commentary. “At least he came good. So did his associate. Both of them learnt their lesson well and good after the warning you dished out.”

The associate’s bid was below a listing from one of our most generous clients from across the Atlantic. Another standard entry for a variety of BDSM implements without permanent scarring.

I clicked on newbie number two’s listing and hated myself for not prioritising the viewing of these as they came in live over the past few hours.

Drake had seen all of them, and no doubt had chance to investigate all of them and give verbal approval before I’d even glanced a look at them. It was another ridiculous insult I’d hurled at my own common sense these past few days. More of the Paige Emmerson effect, it would seem.

I needed to damn well immunise myself against the Paige Emmerson effect, it would seem.

Newbie number two wanted to dress her as a school girl and beat her ass with a traditional cane. He wanted to fuck her throat with an implement long enough that she would vomit all over her school blouse, then make her lick herself clean.

Jesus Christ. Newbie number two was surprisingly niche in his tastes. I’d never have boxed him in with the grade-A freaks during his initial days as a client of ours, but put that down to another oversight on Eric’s part since he was the one who did the interview process prior to bringing him onboard.

“Didn’t have him down as such a weirdo,” Eric commented, as though reading my mind.

I didn’t grace him with a response, clicking through to the next listing while once again ignoring the accept button.

I could imagine Drake reading all of these from his plush seat in some high-end establishment somewhere, smirking to himself at the inevitable praise heading his way upon offering such a popular little prospect to his cash rich customers.

Our cash rich customers.

I continued with the list.

Our elderly oil baron client wanted his regular whipping session with a particularly savage single tail. He was just prepared to offer a more competitive pay out to do so.

Our European politician client — using the general populous’ money as per usual — was on his regular driver for anal destruction. Anal fisting. He’d underlined painful in the description, and offered a whole slab more money as a cash incentive to the girl herself if he managed to achieve a prolapse on her asshole.

My stomach turned afresh at the thought. Eric’s laugh made my fist clench over the keyboard, wanting to land a decent punch directly to his piece of shit mouth for his ignorance.

I managed to hold back, clicking through the next five listings with barely more than a glance at their objectives. Strangulation. Group sex to the extreme. Medical play. Watersports. Fisting and stretching and pain on pain.

“She’s gonna have a busy sixty days,” Eric said, and this time I answered him.

“She’s a popular girl.”

I turned in his direction as he landed a slap on my arm. “You made her that way,” he told me, and I raised an eyebrow.

“I appreciate the praise, but this success is all down to the girl upstairs. Just as I told you it would be.”

He pulled a face, unconvinced. “Nah. Well, partly. But you should have seen yourself on screen, Bran. Fuck me, you were all in. Seeing you enjoy her that much I bet the guys watching couldn’t wait to get their fucking bids in. I’m sure we’ll have a shit ton more before the night is through.”

“Pardon me?” I asked, not quite following his idiot logic.

“You,” he repeated. “You were all in. Looked like you were under the spell yourself. Never seen you quite so in the zone. Like steel usually, unmoved by any tight little snatch on the market.”

“I was playing my role as I always play my role,” I countered, but he laughed his fool laugh at me.