Sell My Soul

by Jade West

“Love doesn’t exist, sweetheart. It’s a sorry fucking illusion and nothing more.”

  “Love does exist. It’s the only thing that matters,” she whispered. “What point is there to anything if you don’t have love?”

  “And do you have it? Where is your fucking sister if love is real? Why isn’t she here with you, trying to save you from selling your own fucking soul on her behalf?”

  “I don’t know!” she hissed, and pulled away with such force I actually let her go.

  She could take that one little victory. She wouldn’t be taking another.

  Her shoulders hunched. Eyes filled to flowing.

  I took a swig of scotch.

  “Spit it out,” I said. “Such definite opinions should stand up to scrutiny if they count for shit.”

  She held up a hand, but the gesture wasn’t rude. It was broken.

  “Speak,” I ordered. “You believe in love, I’m asking you where it is. I’m asking you why the sister you’d go to the ends of the earth for hasn’t even called you back to let you know she’s still breathing.”

  “She might not be… breathing…” she managed. “She’s in trouble. Serious trouble!”

  “She was breathing this morning,” I hissed. “Stumbling back to her shit hole apartment off her fucking tits with her prick of a boyfriend in tow.”

  Her hand was at her mouth in a heartbeat. “You saw her?! Today? She was ok today?!”

  “Please,” I sneered. “Do I look like the kind of guy who goes traipsing down druggie street to scope out someone’s skanky fucking sister? I had her watched. They saw plenty enough.”

  She dropped her hand to the table. “Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank you. I was worried sick.”

  My frustration was rattling through my fucking spine.

  Frustration at her fucking selflessness. Frustration at her fucking naivety.

  Frustration at my own fucking unwillingness to laugh her off as a silly little girl caring for her fuck-up of a sister and move on happily with destroying her on webcam.

  “You’re really going to take whatever pain and fucking punishment I dish out to you for sixty days straight, just to bail out your waster of a sister?”

  She tipped back another sip of cocktail, and that fake facade came back strong enough that I wanted to belt it out of her.

  “Who’s to say that’s the only reason I’m signing up for sixty days?” she challenged.

  I forced myself to go along with her ridiculous line of reason.

  “So tell me, what other pressing motives have you signing up for sixty days of utter depravity?”

  Another one of those little shrugs. “Rebecca Lane has done pretty well for herself. Maybe I want that too. Maybe I want designer clothes and shoes and enough money to buy myself an apartment.”

  I laughed out loud.

  A proper belly laugh.

  Cutting and cold and without fucking restraint.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” I said. “Your attempts at bullshit are nothing short of hilarious. I’d leave the bullshit at college when you step into my world, little girl. Beating it out of you will be my pleasure, but I doubt you’ll enjoy the process.”

  Her eyes crawled up to mine slowly. So fucking slowly.

  And there it was again. That quality that had my laughter drying up in my fucking throat.

  That need in her eyes that called my name. That craving for the fucking darkness.

  Fuck it.

  I had a craving of my fucking own.

  “Drink up,” I said. “We’re going.”

  “Going?” she asked, looking to her almost full glass and back again. “Going where?”

  I downed my drink and dumped another few notes on the table.

  I stood up as she was still glugging hers.

  “You want money,” I said. “Come show me how fucking much.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Paige

  I followed him. I didn’t even question where as I grabbed my bag and stepped out after him.

  The pier was still alive with tourists. They moved out of his way. He didn’t alter his path, not once, not all the way to the front.

  I hadn’t eaten. Not for hours.

  The alcohol on an empty stomach made my legs bandy, my head swimming as I concentrated on keeping up with him.

  He didn’t say a word when we arrived on the beach front. Didn’t make a sound as he crossed the main street and paced along the string of restaurants on the other side.

  I wasn’t prepared for him taking a hard left. I stumbled a little as I pulled up sharp and followed him to the door of a hotel with a vacancies sign out front. He opened the door and stepped aside for me. A surprising gentleman.

  The heat of the reception foyer brought me out in a hot flush. I tried to stay calm and steady as he paced right up to the front desk and jammed his hand on the service bell.

  I looked around me, soaking in the high ceiling and the twinkle of the chandelier above. He was talking to the receptionist just a few seconds later, and I watched her watching him. She was smiling bright. Really bright. She gave him a giggle as she handed him over a key.

  He paid in cash and signed nothing more than a flourish from the looks of it on the admission form.

  I wished I was close enough to see what his name was. If that was even his real name he signed the slip with.

  I’d have to ask him. Have to. But as he turned to me with the room key dangling menacingly from his finger, I wasn’t sure when I’d ever pluck up the courage.

  He was fierce. Terrifying. The most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen in my life, even though he was more than enough to give me nightmares.

  I resumed my little lost sheep routine of following him as he headed straight upstairs, pacing at speed along the first landing and around a corner.

  Our room was on the left. He put the key in the lock and shoved the door open. I wasn’t expecting it when he grabbed my arm and shoved me inside with the same force.

  The door closed behind him before he flicked the light switch on.

  I could barely swallow as he stalked to the window and surveyed the view of the front outside.

  He didn’t close the curtains as he turned back to me. I dropped my bag on the bedside cabinet and hovered nervous.

  “Another grand at stake tonight,” he said, and pulled a wedge of cash from his inside pocket. He dropped it on the dresser. “But this one isn’t for your fucking sister. It’s for you. It’s to make sure you eat properly and buy your fucking college stationery. It’s to make sure you’re in a half decent state when I come calling for the main event.” He paused. His eyes burned. “Do you understand me?”

  I nodded.

  His expression darkened. “I said, do you understand me?”

  I nodded again. “Yes, I understand you.”

  He tipped his head. “Did you learn nothing from my little run in with Rebecca earlier?”

  My heart was racing. I took a stab at his meaning. “Yes, sir. I understand you, sir.”

  “Good girl,” he said. “But unfortunately, you haven’t been all that good so far. Sneaky girls need to learn their lessons. Bad girls deserve their punishment.”

  I couldn’t hold back the shiver. My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow.

  “Strip for me,” he said. “I want you naked. I want those pretty little tits bared ripe for what’s fucking coming to them. I want that sweet little cunt ready for what’s due.”

  My fingers were trembling so bad I could barely even unfasten my shoes. I kicked them off as neatly as I could manage, propping myself against the wall as I reached for the zip at the side of my dress.

  I’d never felt so exposed as I slipped it down. It tugged on my hips for just a moment before it dropped at my feet. I stepped out of it with my eyes on the floor, cheeks on fire.

  “Look at me,” he said, and I had to suck in a breath.

  His hands were in his pockets when I dared to raise my eyes. His stance was firm. Huge. Every bit the g
od that Rebecca Lane had talked about.

  My hands were clasped in front of me, my tits feeling tiny in my scrappy little bra after seeing her impressive cleavage earlier.

  “Tits bared,” he barked, and I flinched.

  I hated the way I fumbled with the clasp. Hated the way my bra was so old and faded as I pulled it free from my shoulders.

  He didn’t need to ask about my knickers. I hooked my thumbs in the waist and tugged them down fast, kicking them off into the rest of the pile and struggling to stand steady.

  “Rebecca Lane is a beautiful piece of pussy,” he told me, and my stomach panged hard. I knew she was beautiful. Knew she was sexy as all living shit. Knew she was everything he’d have wanted to pay for and more.

  “Rebecca is–” I began, but he stopped me with a raised finger.

  “I haven’t finished,” he said. “Polite little girls don’t interrupt when I’m speaking.”

  I nodded and blurted out the obvious. “Sorry, sir.”

  His nod made me feel surprisingly warm inside.

  “Rebecca Lane is a beautiful piece of pussy,” he said again. “But you’re more than enough to knock her to the side-lines. Don’t ever doubt your own worth, Miss Emmerson. I never waste good money on bad investments.”

  My eyes slammed into his. Checking for humour. Checking for malice. Checking for any single tell that he was laughing at me.

  There was nothing.

  Just him.

  Staring.

  Wanting.

  Even in my half-drunken state I knew he was wanting.

  Wanting me.

  My scared heart soared high.

  I didn’t move a muscle as he stepped towards me, eyes wide on his like I was staring at heaven.

  “I’m going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m going to hurt you so fucking bad you’ll beg for mercy.” Another few steps and he was in front of me. The heat from his suit prickled my skin. “And this is just the beginning,” he whispered. “Believe me, it gets a whole lot worse.”

  He tugged his tie free at the knot and I couldn’t hold back the whimper. He took my wrists in his with such strength I cried out a little, pinching my lip in my teeth as he bound them tight. His tie was soft. Burgundy silk so dark it was almost black. It didn’t make the bindings gentle in any way. My wrists were tied so tight I could barely move them, my fingers wriggling on instinct just to make sure I still had feeling.

  His breath was in my face when his hands snaked up to pinch my nipples. I’m sure he could hear my heartbeat as I hitched my breath against his.

  “If that sad little boy from the beach touches these tits again before I’m done with them, I swear it’ll be the last thing he fucking touches,” he hissed, and my eyes opened wide. “Nobody comes into my world for sixty days with any losers clinging on outside. I suggest you abstain from a lunchtime hook-up next time he asks.”

  “How did you…” I began, but he pinched harder. So much harder.

  “I have contacts,” he snarled. “As I hope I’m making clear, I know every fucking thing. Don’t ever forget it. Every move you make I’ll be in the shadows. Every word you speak will be in my ear before you can fucking blink.”

  My tits were wanting in the face of the fear. I pulled my shoulders back to offer him more.

  “Hungry for punishment,” he said. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll get more than your fill.”

  His fingers dug into my flesh and pressed deep, rolling the meagre little nubs of me tight to my ribcage hard enough that I screwed my eyes shut.

  “I mark what’s mine,” he told me, and the devil on my shoulder danced. “Until the day your dues are paid, this body of yours belongs to me.”

  I could smell the whisky on his breath. I wanted to taste it on his lips, but didn’t dare make the slightest move.

  “Call this a trial run,” he said, and I nodded.

  When his palm landed on my tit it struck so hard that I started. My skin was burning when he slapped the other, nipples hard as he flicked at them before landing another two painful slaps on top.

  “These are pretty little things,” he told me. “Hurting them will be a pleasure.”

  Another two slaps and I rocked on my feet. The next two had me whimpering.

  “Eyes open,” he said, and squeezed my cheeks in his fingers until I stared up at him.

  The next four slaps were harder, my eyes threatened to water as I held back my cries.

  I couldn’t hold it back for much longer as he kept going, whimpering as I hunched my shoulders, but still he kept up the rhythm. Over and over and fucking over.

  It hurt.

  Smarting. Burning. Stinging.

  But it was a good pain. A pain that made my heart sing.

  I hated how much I wanted more.

  He rolled my nipples between his fingers as I tried to catch my breath.

  “One day, sweet little Paige, I’m going to bite you so fucking hard I’ll leave teeth marks on you for days,” he hissed and my stomach lurched over itself. “But not tonight. Tonight is just a taster.”

  I couldn’t stop myself staring at his mouth. His teeth. The perfect shape of his lips.

  I couldn’t stop the flutter between my legs. The ache of my depraved clit as it begged for relief.

  “You can bite me tonight,” I offered. “I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever you want… sir.”

  His laugh was low. Embarrassment burned.

  “Oh sweetheart, I admire your enthusiasm. But believe me, when I savage those pretty little tits the whole seedy fucking underworld will be watching. You’ll be hurting and they’ll be paying, just the way it should be.”

  “And what about this?” I asked him. “What is this? Why aren’t they watching this?”

  “Because this is all mine,” he said. “Cash out of my own fucking pocket for my own fucking pleasure. I’m simply being careful about breaking in the goods too soon.” He tugged on my nipples so hard I fell into him. He held me there, bound wrists pinned between us as he fisted his hands in my hair. “Plus this is punishment,” he added. “If you ever ask any questions about me again, you’ll be taking it for free.”

  How I wished he’d kiss me.

  My lips were open. Begging for it. Begging for him.

  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-Four

  Brandon

  She’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.
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  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.