Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

I sighed. The guy was always such a fucking idiot.

“Clearly I knew,” I grunted, waving him aside.

He didn’t move. “Why the fuck would you do that?” he asked. “Fuck her without viewers? We have so many people waiting.”

“I’m well aware of what we do and don’t have,” I replied. “And I’m well aware of what I’m doing, thank you. Unfortunately, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Drake is going to be out for blood soon,” he said, and that was enough to wipe the smile off my face.

“Drake can be out for whatever he fucking wants, Eric, I don’t give two shits.”

That wasn’t strictly true.

“You are gonna give her to the viewers, right?” he asked. “You are gonna go live on cam with her, yeah? Soon? They’ll be needing it.”

The smile was long gone from my face as I gritted my jaw and finally spun in my seat to face him.

“Do I look like a fucking imbecile? I’m well aware of our viewers’ needs and requirements.”

He gave up and retreated with a shake of his head, clearly fucked as to my reasoning.

For all my bluster I didn’t blame him. I was a little fucked as to my reasoning myself.

Finally, as one scrap of sensibility presented itself from my insanity, I fired up the notification portal and began my announcement.

Paige was coming.

Those dirty cunts better put their hands fucking deep in those dirty pockets.Chapter NinePaigeI’d never felt so dirty and so used in my life.

My throat was raw. Sore like my pussy. My face was slick with spit and tears and cum.

I was trembling. I heard the sobs from my throat, even though they felt miles away. Felt the fresh tears mingling with the slippery mess down my cheeks.

I felt worthless.

Exposed.

I shouldn’t want to touch myself.

Part of me didn’t.

But the other part…

The other part had my trembling fingers slipping between my thighs and rubbing myself at the thought of him.

The aggression. The grunts. The smell of him. The taste of him.

The taste of his spit and his hot cum.

The taste of his dick down my throat.

I wondered how many people were watching, if they still were. Whether I’d pleased them. Whether they’d be tuning in for more. Whether they’d be enjoying my pain and humiliation.

Whether that would make the beautiful monster proud of the dirty girl I was trying to be for him.

I guess it was my natural instinct, at least partially. The urge to be the best I could be. This was no different.

I wanted to be good. Worthy.

I wanted him to smile and call me a good girl. And mean it.

Even through my own shame and pitiful sobs, I wanted to be that good girl.

I lay there, naked and filthy, curled in a ball, my fingers inside me, staring at the closed door, wondering where he was as the minutes ticked by. If he was still nearby. If he was thinking of me. If he was watching.

I hoped he was watching.

I hoped for a whole load of things as the tears eventually died down.

I was hungry. Thirsty.

Maybe that’s what he was waiting for this time around. Me on my knees, pleading with the nearest camera for bread and water. Pleading for him to come back and hurt me.

Maybe none of it mattered in the slightest, and I’d only get what he wanted to give me, when he wanted to give it to me.

All I ultimately wanted him to give me was the chance to save my sister. Even as the mess of my face dried in its slimy horror, the pang for Phoebe was still strong in my stomach. Much stronger than any hunger.

Sixty days.

That’s the only shot I had. The only shot she had.

I took the opportunity of the silence to soak in the room a little more. The bed was hard but bearable. The hoists and chains and furniture were ominous, and the cameras added to my nerves.

My brain churned through so many potentials. So many questions.

Whether Rebecca Lane had been here in this very room, doing the very things Brandon Grant would be doing to me. Whether she’d been here, her face smeared and drying just as mine was. Crying just as I was, with the taste of his cum in her mouth just like mine.

I wondered if I’d be in here permanently for the remaining days. If it really was a blessing I should have been grateful for to experience one single night in the opulence of his personal space.

For a moment I felt like this room would be a prison. One I couldn’t bear, not for anything.

And then my brain churned right back over to normal.

Back to life outside.

To the people who’d fuck my sister up for her debts far worse than I’d be fucked up in here.

To the practicalities of the troubles mounting outside.

To the people at uni who’d assume I’d bailed on my studies and take away her one solitary bolthole in the universe.