Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

I guess it was his voice. The difference in his voice. Still powerful, but brimming with a hint of something. Something more than the hard coldness. More than the wickedness of the cold laugh he usually graced me with.

This was more.

Warmth. There was just a taste of warmth in his tone.

It made me desperate for more.

Desperate to please him.

“Yes, master. Thank you, master.”

I felt him pause. Stiffen.

“Say that again.”

But I couldn’t. My heartbeat was in my ears as I registered my words. My mouth was bone dry as I struggled to repeat my words.

Master. I called him master.

“Say that again,” he ordered, and his voice was deep and dark but it didn’t matter.

The warmth was still right there.

I forced myself to take a breath. Forced the words right out of chest.

“Yes, master. Thank you, master!”

“That’s my good girl,” he said, and I felt it. I felt like his good girl. “Take your punishment like my good little slut.”

Oh, how I wanted to be his good little slut.

I straightened up and gritted my teeth, waiting for the next lash. It came fast. Fast and hard. Enough that I screamed out loud but didn’t move. I stayed as still as I possibly could on tiptoes, focusing in on the heat of the stripe on my lower back.

Fuck, it hurt.

Pain that sliced right through me and exploded in my head.

It took my everything to keep staring at those cameras and not look back at him, just to see him for one tiny second.

My skin was strangely tingling when the next swipe came. It hurt but felt further away. My scream sounded loud but distant, my ears ringing with some weird buzz.

It was me. I was buzzing.

My nerves were wired and spiking like crazy. My body was confused, conflicted by the sensations from all over. From between my legs where I was desperate for more of his touch, to the searing skin across my shoulder blades. It merged and writhed and lapped together and came back with nothing short of a mashed up daze of endorphins.

Euphoria.

It was a weird sense of euphoria.

Of freedom.

Of release.

Of submission.

Of course. It was submission.

This must be submission.

There’s no way I could recall how many lashes I took on my back that night. I was lost to everything but the sensation, my eyes drilling into the wall of cameras and making sure I was being as obedient as I could for my master.

I couldn’t recall when he changed the whip to the solid thump of a wooden paddle, right on my ass over and over.

I couldn’t recall when he moved to my front and turned his attention to my inner thighs until I was crying out with new vigour.

I could recall when I first felt the swell of him pressed to my bare ass through his trousers. It was electric. My whole body thrummed with need. For him. All for him.

My wrists were numb when he finally loosened the shackles and set me back on hard flooring. My legs were like jelly, barely able to take my weight as I adjusted myself. As it turned out, I didn’t have long to worry about it.

I was against his body in seconds, the heat of him burning my sore skin through his shirt. His arms were strong and pained me as they folded around my shoulders. I let out a moan as he dropped me to my knees and guided me backwards. I went easily with his movements, my lips opening for his as his weight came down onto mine.

This time he didn’t give me his mouth. He went for my neck instead as he pinned me flat, teeth nipping hard as he let out a moan of his own.

“Let’s show our viewers how hungry your battered little body is for cock,” he said, and his voice was cold again.

I didn’t care. Couldn’t care. My sore thighs were spreading before he’d even finished speaking, my hips rising up for more before he’d even unbuttoned his suit trousers.

I wasn’t ready for him to flip me onto my front and pin his weight down hard a second time. I wasn’t ready for him to yank my tear-ripe face up to the camera glare by my hair, his breath hot and ragged in my ear as he held me firm.

I was ready for his cock inside me though. I couldn’t hold back a whorish moan as he shunted in deep.

“Yes!” I managed. “Yes, please, master!”

His hips slammed hard enough that my words came out jagged.

“Tell them how fucking good it feels,” he grunted, and I did.

I told them over and over, my rambling voice sounding nothing but slutty as my body took every bit of the pounding he was giving me from behind.

“Dirty girl,” he snarled. “You know what you’re asking for?”

I tried to shake my head. I had no idea what I was asking for besides his cock inside me.