Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

But he didn’t deliver.

“You’re a perfect little subject,” he whispered. “Defiling you will be glorious.”

My drunken legs did nothing to steady me as he threw me towards the bed. I landed hard. Awkward. Struggling for balance with my hands pinned to the mattress as I tried to right myself.

I didn’t get the chance to do much about it. He lifted me easily, shunting me into position without so much as a grunt of exertion. My face was in the pillows at the top, hands under my belly with my ass in the air.

I felt the dip of the mattress as he knelt behind me. He parted my thighs with demanding fingers, and I spread my legs with a whimper.

“I do enjoy the sight of fresh little cunt,” he growled, and I was grateful he couldn’t see my burning face.

I heard his belt buckle coming undone. Heard him pull the leather strap from his waistband.

The fear spiked in my belly as I heard the slap against his palm.

“Get ready to fucking hurt,” he said.Chapter Twenty-FourBrandonShe’d never be ready for me. Never be ready to take what I was giving. Never be able to look me in the eye and say she knew what I was all set to deliver.

I liked it that way.

With most girls I kept myself in check at the beginning. With most girls I scoped out their limits and edged them over inch by inch before I went in for the kill and pushed them to breaking point. It made for better viewing when it mattered. A longer timeline of filth for my paying clients.

With most girls this suited me just fine.

Paige Emmerson was not most girls.

I gave no warning slaps before I raised my belt high and brought it down across her back.

She shrieked at the lash, and rightly fucking so, squirming hard as the stripe of pale flesh turned pink. It was a perfect diagonal. A perfect strike.

I countered it with the opposite direction on the next, and she shrieked again, this one throaty in her panic.

“Bite the fucking pillow and keep quiet,” I snapped.

I didn’t wait for her to find her position. The leather strap cut across her perky ass like a fucking dream. Pink. So much fucking pink against the pale.

My dick was proud enough to ache. Straining in my pants like I was a horny fucking teen.

Like I said, Paige Emmerson was not most girls.

She was begging for my cock, even if she wasn’t aware of it. Screaming for more, even if she didn’t know it yet. Offering the bones of her very fucking soul, even if she didn’t know how to give it.

Just as well I was a master at taking whatever I wanted.

I moved with stealth, shifting position on the bed with barely a disturbance to her posture.

The three lashes across the back of her thighs left stripes so even they would hold up to spirit-level scrutiny. Another talent of mine.

Her fresh cries were garbled groans around the pillow, teeth undoubtedly adhering to my instruction and clamping on tight.

She was trembling as I beat her ass with six of the best. She squirmed like a slippery little fish as I lashed her a good one right between the shoulder blades. Fuck, how it bloomed.

I could’ve stopped at that point. The punishment had easily compensated for the crime.

Unfortunately for sweet little Paige, stopping was the last thing on my mind.

“Keep those legs spread wide for me,” I grunted, and she moaned in horror as she did as she was told.

It was like an electric jolt right the way through her as the leather snapped and curled around the tender flesh of her inner thighs, one after the other. She lurched up onto all fours and rocked against the pain as the stripes darkened to my liking.

Another naïve move on her part.

Her sweet pussy lips were begging for a slap in that position. The bitch’s slit was glistening wet and the back and forth motion of her sways presented her most tender parts delightfully.

“That’s brave, offering your tender little pussy for a belting,” I said, and tapped the strap against those glorious puffy lips with a flick of my wrist.

She was flat on the bed again in a heartbeat.

I couldn’t hold back a sly laugh. “I do love a quick learner.”

With that she adjusted herself, rolling to the side enough to free her arms from under her. She lifted them overhead, supporting them against the headboard, fingers gripping the railings nice and tight.

The position suited her. Pretty as a fucking picture.

It suited me too.

I loved how her knuckles whitened as I punished her all over again. My own breaths were ragged with hers as I drove into the rhythm, lashing at her back, her ass, and losing sight of everything bar the burning pink of her skin as the leather cracked against it again and again.