Sell My Soul (Sixty Days 1)

My thumbs dancing on her nipples to ease the suffering was a lifeline I rarely granted, but grant it I did. I played with those nipples until her breaths came out panting. I swear I could hear her pussy getting wetter. She was straining for more, pain forgotten by the time the belt came down again.

This time she cried out loud.

Her yelps were pure fucking bliss to my cock twitching in my pants.

“That’s right,” I hissed. “Show me how much it fucking hurts.”

I wasn’t so considerate with her thighs. I landed three on each in quick succession without so much as a pause for thought.

Sweet little Paige showed me plenty. Her head thrashed from side to side as she hissed through the burn.

Another three on each and she was crying openly, chest heaving as I pinched the stripes on her skin.

“Beautiful,” I said. “You really are a delicious little creature, Paige Emmerson. I’m going to enjoy our sixty days.”

Her whimpers grew louder as I raised her legs back up.

“I always like to save the best for last,” I told her with a smirk, and her bottom limp trembled when I circled my thumb on her clit. “If you’re a very good girl for me, maybe I’ll kiss it better.”

“Oh God,” she breathed through the tears. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

“Sir would do fine, but I’ll take it,” I laughed, and lined the belt up flush against that perfect little cunt.

I shouldn’t be pushing her this far.

Shouldn’t be here in the first fucking place.

Shouldn’t be coasting dangerously close to my evening engagements with my dick throbbing for the dainty little slut spread wide for me.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my bastard pocket.

Once again, I found myself not giving a shit.

“Three on this pretty little slit,” I said. “You’ll take it like a good little girl.”

She gripped the headboard, mouth pursed tight as I tapped the belt between her legs.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” I told her and she took a breath.

She didn’t keep me waiting. The nod came shallow but fast.

The belt slapped hard when I brought it down. She slammed her thighs closed tight and yelped for me.

Jagged breaths.

Shudders.

Such glorious ripples right through her.

She rocked on the edge of control, her whole body daring to be pushed that little bit further.

I’ve always been one to accept a dare.

I pulled her back into position with strong hands. Made sure that pretty cunt was pouting for me. The next lash came down harder than the first, and it fucking showed.

How it fucking showed.

She was a dirty little angel breaking before me. Her cries were a slice of the divine.

“One more,” I grunted, yet I wished it was twenty.

This time she covered her face with her bound wrists when I struck her, doing her best to hide the sobs.

But I didn’t care.

My eyes were too busy feasting on that beautiful cunt as it pinked and swelled.

The final dregs of my sensibilities bailed and departed. Without them I was a fool.

I couldn’t resist.

Didn’t even fucking try.

Her groan was loud as I lowered my open mouth to that hurting little mound and clamped on tight. My tongue was a dart, aiming right for her clit. My lips were hungry to taste her sweet pain.

I wasn’t expecting her thighs to grip me tight so soon and coax for more.

I wasn’t expecting my groans to match with hers as I ate her out like I was starving.

She was grinding in mere seconds, bucking against my mouth like a whore gone wild.

I’d have expected her to ride the wave without another word, but as seemed to be the case all too often with this one, she fucking surprised me.

“Please hurt me,” she rasped. “Please, sir, just a little bit more.”

I pulled away with an open mouth to find her eyes begging.

She couldn’t be fucking serious.

Not for a single fucking second.

I reached for my discarded belt and she seemed to come to some semblance of reason. She shook her head as I brandished it, eyes open wide.

“Not that,” she breathed. “Please, sir, with your hand. Just your hand.”

I was dumbstruck. Kneeling mute with my dick throbbing worse than a priest’s at a nunnery.

In my years of beating sluts for money, not once had I taken a request like hers.

My phone buzzed again. Once, twice, three times fucking over.

My clients didn’t do late, and neither did I. Not ever.

So quite why I grabbed that girl and bundled her over my knee was a mystery I’d need a lifetime to fathom.

I rained the blows fast. Hard. Slapping her ass with such earnest I was soon grunting as she was.

My cock strained against her belly, threatening to blow, and still I slapped her. Over and over and fucking over. Caring for nothing but the bounce of her perky little rump as my palm landed.