Sell My Soul

by Jade West

  She took exactly what she was given.

  My hand plugged her to the knuckles, opening up that precious little slit like a cavern. She was slick and hungry, even through the pain, bucking against my thumb like a horny little bitch.

  And that’s when I knew beyond all doubt.

  She was worth more than Rebecca Lane. Worth more than the protesting little cow waiting back in the webcam room for me. This girl – this delicate little pixie wench with four of my fingers jammed in her hungry little cunt – was worth an obscene fucking fortune to the dirty billionaires slavering through a webcam screen.

  And an obscene fucking fortune to me.

  “Come for me,” I hissed at her. “Come for me like a needy little slut who wants the pain.”

  If she didn’t, she made a damn good show of pretending. Her whole body rocked and writhed, her breaths heavy and panting as she moaned.

  The sounds were delicious, thick and wet. Her dripping pussy was spilling juice down my wrist.

  She was perfect. A money machine waiting to happen. A new blank canvas for every filthy sin her body could take.

  And I’d be the one to make her take them. Every single fucking one.

  Pain. Punishment. Pleasure.

  I’d give them all.

  Better and worse than she’d ever imagine, all at once, all for me.

  And then I’d pass her on to the highest bidders.

  “Two hundred and fifty grand,” I offered. “Sell me your soul for sixty days and you’ll have the whole fucking lot of it.”

  Her hiss was feral. Pained and desperate. Her grip tightened around my shoulders.

  “Two hundred and fifty?! You mean it?” she rasped. “All that money? You really, really mean it?”

  I fucking meant it alright.

  “Come for me and we’ll talk details,” I told her, and I meant that too.

  Her answer was enough to make my balls clench. Enough to make my mouth water worse than her slick wet cunt.

  “Then hurt me more,” she said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Paige

  He was terrifying.

  Huge and threatening with eyes dark enough to give me shivers.

  His fingers were burning inside me, stretching me so deep I could feel him in my stomach. His thumb was a master on the place that felt just right, rubbing so hard my legs were buckling.

  I shouldn’t have wanted him.

  Shouldn’t have wanted any of this.

  I should have run a mile and begged the local emergency room for some kind of desperation therapy. I should be scared for my own sanity and everything I thought I stood for.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  Didn’t want to stop.

  His shoulders were wide and firm, taking my weight without a scrap of protest. His words were black velvet, barbed with thorns I was desperate to feel.

  And the money.

  So much money.

  Two hundred and fifty grand could give me everything.

  Everything I’d ever wanted, and more. Everything.

  His eyes widened for a just a beat as I asked him for more pain. It was enough.

  Enough to see my own surprise reflected back at me. My own crazy needs bursting free in a way I’d have never believed in a million years.

  The wall was cold at my back, my frame dwarfed so insanely by his that the streetlights above offered nothing more than a dim orange glow behind him.

  He looked every bit the dark god he was claiming to be, and I felt every bit the sinner begging for mercy.

  “Only dirty little girls like it rough,” he said.

  It made me shiver, my pussy clamping even tighter around his fingers as he slammed me hard.

  I wondered if he’d make it hurt worse down there. I wondered if I’d asked for too much as the sparks from my clit drove me ragged.

  But no.

  My tits were already spilling free from the groping earlier. I cried out loud as his fingers dug into tender flesh. He clenched and twisted, hurting me like I’d never been hurt in my life, then pulled at my nipple so hard I sucked in breath.

  “A perfect handful,” he said, and did it again. “I do love my girls with perfect little tits.”

  Love.

  It was the most fucked up use of love I’d ever heard, but my soul didn’t care.

  Even in that pitiful, pathetic little heartbeat I knew I’d do whatever it took to hear him say that word again. But I shouldn’t. God help me, I shouldn’t.

  I forced my shoulders back enough to stare down at his shadowy attack on my tits. I loved how his fingers looked so big and fierce against my pale skin. I loved how my nipples were hard for him, betraying my silence over every vile fantasy I’d ever had.

  “I’ll hurt your tits so fucking bad you’ll cry at the thought for the rest of your life,” he said, and gripped so tight I held my breath.

  His thumb made a traitor of my clit. The angel on my shoulder was long-gone as I felt the shudders from deep.

  I strained for my own balance, but found nothing but the strength in his frame dwarfing mine.

  The idea that the three college jerks on the beach could have saved me from this beautiful monster was enough to make me smile. He took it as a laugh, I’m sure he did.

  The way he gripped my face had my eyes like saucers. He crushed my cheeks, making my mouth a gulpy little goldfish as he glared down at me.

  “Something tickling you, little girl?” he hissed, and jammed his knuckles so deep between my legs that I cried out.

  “No,” I managed to say.

  “Good,” he told me. “Or I’d have to wipe that smile right off your dirty little face.”

  He didn’t let go. My face stayed in his grip, my expression his for the taking. I couldn’t shake him off. Couldn’t move my head away.

  My pussy felt destroyed but my clit was buzzing sky high.

  My first whimper of climax was ugly. Weak and sad from my fish-pout lips.

  It was his turn to smile. There was nothing funny about his expression as he ate up my discomfort and squeezed my cheeks tighter for more.

  “I love pretty faces so much better when I’m fucking them up,” he said, and it was too much.

  The orgasm was everything it shouldn’t be, rocking through my body like an electric current gone wild. I juddered on weak legs, crushing him with desperate arms as I bounced against the thumb on my clit.

  My pussy ached so bad I felt like I’d swallowed his whole fist up there, but I didn’t care about that. All I cared about was doing what he wanted, taking what he wanted.

  Being what he wanted.

  The man really was a monster. His breath was loud against mine, his lips barely an inch away as he pinned me hard to the wall.

  And then I felt him.

  The length of him.

  Monster was an apt word for the swell of him. Suddenly the finger-pounding didn’t seem nearly so bad.

  With that realisation he tugged his hand from between my legs and jammed his thigh in its place, rubbing so hard against my battered pussy that I cried out loud again.

  I knew I was soaking him. I knew the fabric of his suit trousers would be covered with wetness, and sweat, and maybe even blood too.

  If I thought his thumb was good, the grind of his body was heaven.

  I closed my eyes as the peak claimed me whole, cursing out a hiss as I ground against him right back.

  “It’s always the quiet little girls,” he breathed, but I was lost to the statement, wriggling like a fish on a line until the electric was all gone.

  I panted. Loud.

  Really loud.

  The pain caught up in a heartbeat, stomach clenching tight as my legs gave out.

  He didn’t let me fall.

  “Two hundred and fifty grand doesn’t come easily,” he told me, and it snapped me back to my senses.

  “It doesn’t need to,” I managed to say, and the spell was broken.

  I let go of his shoulders and supported mysel
f against the wall, daring to test my pelvic muscles were still vaguely functional as he pulled himself away.

  They were.

  They hurt like a hundred hells, but they were.

  He brushed down his wet trouser leg with a smirk.

  “I should make you lick me clean,” he said. “But I think you’ve earned your money just fine for one evening.”

  I’d forgotten all about the notes in his pocket earlier. My heart soared in relief as he pulled them out.

  I reached for them but he held them back with a smirk. I felt more like my desperate junkie sister than I’d ever felt in my life.

  “There’s a shit ton of fine print to talk through,” he remarked before slipping the wad of cash in my ruined neckline. The notes felt so seedy against my skin that I shivered all over again. “I don’t have a sixty-day vacancy for well over a month. You’d do well to prepare yourself for the start date.”

  “More than a month?! But I need…” I began, and realised I must sound like my desperate junkie sister as much as I felt like her.

  “More than a month,” he repeated. “Plenty of time to plan for the experience. Many girls like to schedule time out from their regular routine. College may be interested to know you intend to pull a hiatus, for instance.”

  He was nothing like the man who’d pinched my cheeks and called me little girl.

  In the same heartbeat it had taken for me to turn from dirty to desperate, he’d turned from filthy sex god to cold hard businessman.

  Maybe they were one and the same to him.

  “That’s really the earliest position you have available?” I asked him, trying my best to follow his lead.

  “Do I look like the kind of guy who skirts that close to last-minute vacancies?” he asked back, and my heart dropped to my stomach.

  Phoebe needed the money. Soon.

  She needed the money before she got her legs broken in some back alley somewhere.

  Or worse.

  I wondered if the wedge of dirty notes in my cleavage would be enough to hold them off for a while.

  “What’s with the eagerness?” the beautiful man asked, but I shrugged it off.

  My troubles were mine and always had been.

  “Just like to face things head on,” I lied.

  He didn’t believe me. His expression said it all, even in shadow.

  I didn’t meet his eyes as he fished a blank business card from his pocket. He handed it over with a pen.

  “I’ll need your telephone number.”

  I scribbled it down in a flash.

  “You may need to call a few times,” I admitted. “I sometimes struggle… with the bill.”

  “You’re telling me your phone may not be functional?” he challenged, and I hated the nod of my head.

  I hated his frustrated sigh even worse.

  “I’ve just given you a grand in cash and you’re telling me your phone may not be functional when I call you because you might not have paid the bill?”

  I didn’t have any words. None that I dared speak without spilling too much of my situation.

  The silence was so awkward my cheeks burned.

  “Jesus wept,” he hissed eventually and reached deeper into his jacket.

  I tried to protest as he handed me another wad of notes. My fingers clashed with his as he aimed for my cleavage all over again, mouth flapping mute as I struggled to refuse his generosity.

  He acknowledged my protests with nothing more than a swat of his hand before shoving the notes alongside the others in my cleavage.

  I felt like nothing and everything all at once. A cheap stripper playing a circus show.

  An actual pang of sickness twisted up from my gut.

  “Your phone will be connected when I call,” he said, and I managed a nod. “In the interim, you will keep yourself well fed and healthy. No sex, no risks, no ridiculous party nights around campus. You will keep your body cared for and your appearance precisely as it was on your application form. No unwelcome surprises.”

  There were tears in my eyes as I nodded again. I daren’t speak a word for fear of breaking down.

  He lit up a cigarette. I watched his mouth.

  “Bedtime for dirty little girls,” he said, and gestured to the steps.

  I didn’t need telling twice.

  I made it to the top of the steps before the tears came falling, and was long back in my room with the banknotes under my pillow before I was anywhere close to realising I’d left my cardigan behind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brandon

  With her torn scrap of knickers in my inside pocket and her cardigan draped over my arm, I felt possessed by something almost human.

  Almost.

  Humanity was something I’d been aiming to avoid my entire adult life. I’d been doing exceptionally well at it, but the task wasn’t exactly a tough one.

  It was easy to see the soul of humanity lacking in the vile little corners of my world. It was even easier to see it lacking in the people who lined my pockets with their filthy money for their filthy deeds.

  But tonight was different. She was different.

  She was no saint, clearly. No sweet Virgin Mary bestowing her pure intentions on the universe. But still, that didn’t matter. It was impossible not to see the soul behind those big doe eyes. Those sad doe eyes.

  Her desperation was all real, and her vulnerability with it.

  That amount of authenticity was impossible to fake behind a mask of innocence.

  I was hungry for a taste.

  Ravenous for a bite.

  I’d make a meal out of her very soul and spit out the bones before I was done with her.

  The road back to the country house was a long one. I’d selected a venue away from the beaten track, a sprawling manor with sprawling grounds to match, far away from prying eyes and nosey locals. I could have cabbed it easily enough from the beachfront, but I didn’t. I smoked as I walked, appreciating the moon and the country air for once in this backwater seaside shit hole.

  I ignored the constant buzz of messages in my pocket, choosing silence over the inevitably imbecilic questions from Eric back at base.

  There was no doubt Annabel would be waiting impatiently in the back wings, her sorry little cunt pining my absence even if her mouth wouldn’t admit as much. There was also no doubt the world of webcam would be twitching for my return, waiting for the unfolding of more pretty girl torture to keep their dicks spurting.

  Right then, with the moon overhead and some little slut’s tatty woollen cardigan draped over my forearm, I didn’t give a shit for any of it.

  The promise of sixty days with little doe eyes was already about more than the massive cash value she’d generate. My interest in hurting her was already about more than the bids pinging loud behind the scenes.

  Hurt me more.

  I could still hear the echo of her sordid little whisper. It kept a smirk on my face all the way.

  The lights were on downstairs when the imposing grandeur of the manor came into view. I walked through the main entrance doors and past the main security detail without so much as a greeting, draping my little slut’s cardigan over my chair in the office before even glancing over at my brother’s station.

  I expected a whole host of questions from him as to my impromptu disappearance, but his own wiry smirk was transparent enough to bypass them all.

  “She was worth the time then?” he asked, and the two security guys to his rear gave a chuckle.

  “She fucking who?” I quizzed, and Eric’s smirk faltered in a beat.

  I didn’t let him out of my glare as he shuffled through paperwork on his desk top. His words were weak when they came. Pathetic. Backtracking at its finest.

  “I um, I saw the application,” he muttered. “I was checking admin stuff and saw it listed. I printed it out to take a look at her.”

  He held out the crumpled printout and the two guys behind him laughed afresh.

  They’d been talking about h
er. Laughing about her. Laughing about the enthusiasm implied in my prompt meet-up.

  More fool them for their stupidity.

  “Leave,” I told them with a sweep of my hand.

  They knew better than to argue, rising to their feet and bailing into the kitchen without a word of protest.

  Eric’s eyes were full of horror by the time the door closed behind them.

  “What?” he asked. “I thought I was supposed to be learning… I thought checking out the applicants would be a good thing…”

  I was on him in a beat. His cheeks were much heavier than hers when I crushed them hard in my fingers. I wondered if he could smell her on me. If his mouth was watering like mine at the scent of her tight little cunt.

  “You think my business endeavours are cheap gossip fodder?” I hissed. “Think you can treat our next potential cash windfall as laughing material with our dumb fuck security team?”

  “No,” he said. “I just–”

  “Just fucked up,” I finished.

  “They weren’t laughing at you, just her–”

  I don’t know why the statement gritted my jaw all the harder. I don’t know why the thought of them laughing at the sweet little slut from my beach antics was enough to stir the rage down deep.

  “You ever laugh at one of our girls again and I swear to hell it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever do here,” I told him. “You’ll be back home to shit hole suburbia, on the bones of your ass working a nine to five for the rest of your sorry fucking days.”

  “Take it easy,” he protested. “It was just a bit of fun.”

  “There’s no fun to be had in serious fucking business.”

  The idiot had no sense to quit while he was ahead. He looked like the cocky little jerk he was when he opened his mouth again.

  “And there’s no serious fucking business in a girl who looks like she’s never even seen a dick in her life,” he mumbled.

  Fool.

  He was a stupid fucking fool.

  The backhander hit hard enough that he whined like a toddler.

  “Idiot,” I seethed. “Have you learned nothing about my judgement?”

  He clutched his face like the scared little boy I’d defended in our school playground.