Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

I was barely interested in the ping that sounded, assuming it was another sad little wannabe slut bleating on about her conquests, but the message that greeted me was anything but. A few lines of text, with barely a hint as to the full potential of the sender, but I felt it. A strange shiver of excitement ran up my spine as I clicked to expand her profile picture.

The girl was in bed, sprawled on top of sweet floral bedcovers, her mid brown hair a messy halo on her pillow. Her eyes were wide and honest, sparkling with inexperience that made my mouth water.

She was pretty. Very pretty. But it was more than that.

She was vulnerable. Open. World weary with a sad desperation beaming through her candid selfie.

Paige. Somehow I knew that was her actual name. Not a Honey, or a Chantelle, or a Little Miss Sex Kitten.

Paige.

It suited her.

I saw your profile.

I’m willing to be as dark and dirty as it takes, I promise.

Please try me.

Yours, Paige.

What a delightful promise.

I wondered what her voice was like. I imagined quietly well spoken. Delicate, like the rest of her.

I wondered then what her whimpers would sound like as I punished her for the crowds. How electric her screams would be as I pushed her to the limits.

And beyond.

So far beyond.

Yours, Paige.

She would be.

Mine and so many other men’s, but again my instincts surprised me.

Mine.

I don’t know why the prospect was so thrilling. She was just a shy looking girl staring up at a camera, promising a world of filth with no real understanding of what that filth would entail. I liked to leave at least two full days before responding to any message with the link to the application form, but I’d copied it to a reply message before I’d even sparked up a cigarette.

Please expand, I typed and pressed send. I lit up as soon as the tick showed sent, and then I waited.

The video of Annabel’s spread asshole remained on pause, all interest lost to me as I wondered about the girl on the other end of my message. The form was web based, giving me dual editing rights I’d never yet taken advantage of. I clicked the link myself and watched as the page refreshed on screen. I could see her cursor before me, nervously clicking back and forth on the text boxes.

Answer honestly, the instructions demanded. Confidentiality assured. Honesty is the only policy in any potential arrangement.

I willed the words to appear before my eyes, my balls tightening further as my cock sprung hard in my pants. Question one was blatant and demanding.

What financial reward would you require in exchange for sixty days of absolute servitude?

The cursor clicked and held on the answer box. And then the words appeared.

Whatever is on offer. I’m a student on limited income, with needs. For my sister.

I’m willing to do whatever it takes for financial security, for her as well as me.

A pause.

I’ve heard your terms are generous. I’d give everything I could for those kind of rewards, I promise.

Promises. The girl was full of them.

I watched with interest as the references to her sister were deleted.

I’m a student on limited income, with needs. I’ve heard your terms are generous. I’d give everything I could for those kind of rewards, I promise.

Succinct. The final answer was succinct.

I liked that – the silent depths looming dark and deep below her surface words.

Question two made me smile at the screen.

What is the dirtiest exploit you’ve ever indulged in?

There was such a pause as her cursor flashed in the empty box. I finished up my cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, moving my palm to the bulge in my pants as my dick pulsed hard.

I haven’t done much, but I’m a quick learner. A guy made me suck him deep enough that it made me sick over him, and then he made me keep on going.

Another pause.

It was outside. On the pavement. Not far from a street lamp.

I’m sure the neighbours were watching through the window opposite.

I could imagine it. Imagine her.

It was barely an exploit – a drunken deep throat on a residential street somewhere after dark. It didn’t matter.

It would be exploit enough with her doing it. A sweet little blossom, so desperate in her selflessness for her sister.

Next question. What would you do for the ultimate pay day?

She took no time to answer this one.

Anything. Just so long as I can walk away when the contract time is finished.

I stopped palming my dick. It was the conviction in the speed. The simplicity in the words.

She was serious.

Deadly serious.

I didn’t wait to see if she uploaded any photos to the form. I didn’t even wait to see if she revised any answers, or revealed any more of herself in her amendments. My attention was already on the messaging screen, typing out a message which defied my most ingrained methods of engagement.