by West, Jade
I felt so empty. I clenched on nothing. Wanting more.
I really did want more.
I wanted his thrusting body. His grunts of need. His dirty compliments.
I wanted to feel him come inside me.
Wanted to hear him grunting as he came.
“Please, sir. I want you so bad. I really need you inside me. Please, sir, I’ve wanted your cock since the night we first met.”
I wasn’t lying.
Two more slaps landed on my pussy, and my clit sparked and pained. I wasn’t expecting his hand to snake underneath me and tug at my nipples. I wasn’t expecting to feel the sparks shoot down between my legs.
“I’m going to use every part of you,” he said. “I’m going to hurt every part of you. Destroy every part of you. Take my fucking fill of every part of you.”
“Yes, sir,” I hissed. “Yes, sir, I understand, sir.”
I groaned as he rubbed at my clit all over again. His rhythm was brutal but faultless, sending me into a dither as I fought the urge to buck against him.
“Beg!” he barked. “Beg for my cock in that hungry little cunt.”
I could feel the cameras feasting on my body. I wondered how many people were watching this. How many people were tuning in to witness my first dirty pounding.
“Please, sir. Oh God, please, sir. Please. Fuck me…” My voice sounded so weak. So vulnerable. “Please, sir, please fuck my hungry little cunt.”
I didn’t hear him unbuckle his suit trousers. I felt the mattress shift just a beat before I felt the heat of him against my pussy lips from behind.
He didn’t take it slow.
I cried out loud as he slammed in all the way, my arms giving way and slamming my face to the covers as he grabbed my hips and thrust in deep.
“Take it,” he growled. “Take it like a good girl.”
It hurt.
He hurt.
The stretch was intense. Paining deep.
But I liked it.
Wanted it.
Wanted him.
I’d never been taken. Not like this. Never been taken with anything like the power he took my body with. I was his doll. His wanton little slut, even in my pain. I was his purchase. His toy. His dirty little girl opening her legs for more, despite herself.
“Look at the camera,” he told me. “Tell them how it feels.”
I focused my eyes on the nearest green light. “It hurts,” I whispered. “It hurts, but I like it.”
He took my hair in his fist and used it as leverage. His other hand wrapped around my throat and held me tight.
His body was hot and hard over me. The slap of his hips against my bare ass was loud and low.
“This cunt is mine,” he said.
I had nothing but a whimper.
The pain eased. The stretch felt good. Deep.
I moved to his rhythm, guided by his hands. And then he shifted.
I groaned as he found a spot I didn’t even know I had.
“Good girls get their reward,” he told me. “Good girls get their pleasure through the pain.”
My mouth dropped open. I must have looked like a gulping fish for the viewers, grunting at the pressure.
It was incredible.
And then he stopped.
I bleated like an idiot as he pulled his dick right out of me and dropped his grip. I lurched forward, no longer held by his hand on my throat. The tumble sent me reeling, breath ragged as he moved away from me.
I couldn’t stop myself twisting to stare up at him. He put his dick away like it was a non-event, and I hated it. Hated myself.
Hated the feelings of not being good enough.
“Good girls will learn they have to earn their rewards through concerted effort,” he said, and the feelings burned brighter.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I dared. “I thought… I thought I was being good…”
“Good enough for a new little slut,” he said. “But good little sluts need to beg hard for their pleasure.”
I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t do anything, just stared like a fool as he retreated to the other side of the room and turned off the electronics.
The green lights shifted to red.
“I’ll get your breakfast sent up,” he told me, then pointed a finger at my spread legs. “Don’t even think of touching that dirty little cunt. You touch yourself, you’ll be regretting it for days.”
I bit my lip and nodded, holding back a load of dumbass questions as he brushed himself down and made for the door.
He didn’t even look over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him and left me alone.
Chapter Eight
Brandon
I paused outside the door. Poised for retreat.
I should have fucking retreated.
I should have been downstairs, planning the schedule of the weeks to come. Planning the way I was going to use the delicious little slut’s body to make my cold, hard cash.
I should have been sending out notifications to our viewers, telling them of the delights to come in her torment and pain, promising their filthy pleasure at her tortured expense.
I did nothing. Just waited. Braced against the door with my ears trained for any sound from my pretty little toy.
She was quiet.
Part of me hoped she was playing with that beautiful cunt, begging for punishment. Part of me hoped her perky little nipples were bullets crying for my teeth.
An even bigger part of me hoped she had pretty tears running down those pretty cheeks, overwhelmed with the prospect of what was coming.
She must have been hungry for breakfast. I should have sent her up the essentials and watched her gobble them down on my own private webcam.
I didn’t.
Seconds turned to minutes and my cock was still pulsing hard in my pants. It was unusual. Ridiculously unusual, in fact, that I was still so captivated by such a wide-eyed little rabbit in my headlights.
I palmed the swell of my dick with my forehead pressed to the door, cursing under my breath as the urges consumed me. And then I turned the fucking handle and pushed that door back open.
She started when she saw me, of course she fucking did. Her shoulders were rigid and her knees tight to her tits on the mattress.
She was absolutely fucking beautiful in her nervousness, and I barely bothered slamming the door closed behind me before I was on her. Fierce and hungry, my mouth claiming hers as my fingers found her throat and forced her onto her back.
I growled, and bit at her. Her lips. Her ear. The shivering flesh of her shoulder.
She whimpered and wriggled, her body squirming under mine. She cried out harder as I rose enough to slap those tits. I didn’t hold back. Her paleness bloomed to pink, skin prickling with the pain. I made sure it hurt. Made sure her eyes were watering, landing my palm just so on those tender little nipples.
“I’m going to hurt you so fucking bad,” I told her, and she nodded.
“I know, sir. Yes, sir.”
I pinched her cheeks in the way I’d already come to crave, puffing up her lips like a gulping fish as her eyes fixed on mine.
“You know shit,” I said. “You have no fucking idea how much I’m going to enjoy your pain.”
I bit her jawline then licked over her distorted pout, lapping with a wet tongue before forcing it in her mouth and hunting for hers. She swallowed but didn’t fight, grunting as I changed my grip and hooked my fingers into her cheeks. I splayed her mouth so fucking wide. Just the way I’d splay her wet little cunt soon enough.
“Give me your tongue,” I ordered. “Show me.”
She was a good girl, poking that tongue out nice and far. Far enough that I took it between my teeth and nipped hard.
That made her seethe. Her moans were heaven as the pain hit.
She wasn’t expecting me to spit in her open mouth. Her retch was instinct, eyes like saucers as I hacked up a fresh mouthful and did it over again. Next time was in her eyes.
“Slu
ts take what they’re given,” I said, and my hips rolled, the length of me straining for the depths of her through my suit. “Say fucking thank you!”
She could barely say a fucking word with her splayed open mouth. Her attempt was enough to tighten my swollen fucking balls.
“Thannnyou, sir.”
I couldn’t pound her pussy again, not yet.
I couldn’t reward her with my cum in that tight little snatch before she’d truly learned the meaning of earning it.
I pulled my cock free from my pants with a grunt, wrestling her lower on the bed as I climbed into position above her spit-streaked face.
“I’m going to fuck your hungry fucking throat,” I told her. “You’d better fucking take it.”
I didn’t give her the chance to respond before I slammed my way to the back of her wet mouth. Her fresh retch was exactly what I wanted, her throat bulging under me as I tunnelled deep. She’d be choking and I knew it. Eyes bulging at the lack of air as I claimed her.
I took hold of the headboard railings for leverage, caring nothing for her fear or shame or humiliation as I took everything I wanted.
Her bottom lip drooling against my balls was perfect. I stayed there, statue still bar the pulsing of my cock in that tight little cavity. I’d have fucked my way down into her grumbling belly if I had the power. Fucked my way right through her and out the other fucking side.
“Here’s your fucking breakfast,” I snarled and corkscrewed into her face. The noises from her throat made me heady. My breaths were ragged.
And then she had it.
One generous fucking serving of hot seed right into her guts. I stayed deep as I unloaded, breath catching as the white heat exploded behind my eyes.
I let out one long grunt. One shudder. Eyes closed as I savoured her squirms underneath me.
She sucked in one huge desperate breath as I pulled out, retching up streams of thick white cum to cake her chin along with spit and tears.
I should have told her that she was a good girl. An obedient girl. That I’d enjoyed taking my fill and she could play with her tender little clit while I watched in reward.
But I didn’t.
“That’s another treat for the viewers,” I hissed and tipped her head to the camera on the nearest bedpost. “They’ll be wanting to stare at your filthy fucking face for hours, so don’t you dare even think of wiping yourself clean.”
Her chest was still heaving. She coughed a wet cough as her eyes stared at the blacked-out camera lens.
“I won’t wipe myself, sir,” she managed with a whimper.
“Thank me for your fucking breakfast,” I told her and her eyes dropped in shame.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’ll get three meals a day if you’re lucky,” I said. “Breakfast, lunch and supper in three hungry little holes.”
“Thank you, sir,” she repeated, and I wondered if she was coming to think of me instinctively as sir already or if it was still a conscious effort.
“You’re a filthy slut,” I told her, loving how her eyes dropped even further.
“Yes, sir.”
I was contemplating giving her the lunch helping already when I saw the flash of the intercom light on the back wall. I looked away from it in a beat to distract her from its presence, but there was no need. Her gaze was anywhere but at the back wall. I eased up enough to survey the full extent of my handiwork and it was a picture of fucking brilliance.
Her lips were bubbling cum and spit, cheeks raw and puffy along with her mouth. Her eyes were glassy and full of want and disgust, her chest still ricocheting in the aftermath.
“Remember, our viewers are watching you,” I repeated, and this time only got a tiny nod.
I let it slide.
My balls felt full of fucking air as I climbed down from the bed and adjusted myself for another round of normality downstairs.
She wasn’t looking at me as I headed for the exit the second time over. I really did leave her behind this time, taking the stairs two at a time and letting a smile grace my face as I stepped on through to the office. Eric’s stance was its usual quizzical nothingness as I headed to my desk and fired up my PC. I barely shot him a glance as he paced over, purposefully ignoring the bleep of the intercom buzzer from his side of the room.
“Was that a fuck up?” he asked, and I didn’t grace him with an answer. “You must’ve known it wasn’t piping through live, right? I was buzzing in case you didn’t…”
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 Nine
Paige
I’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 wante
d 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.
My studies would be over for the foreseeable. I had no doubt. There was no way they’d allow me back to regular campus life after sixty days without so much as an email in explanation. My funding would dry up to nothing, my assignments falling under the radar until I was barely more than a ticked box on some admin sheet somewhere saying my position was done.
It only added to the importance of being a good girl for a bad man, no matter how much of my soul he shredded in the process.
It was no longer just Phoebe’s life that would be destroyed without his reign of savagery, but mine too. I needed the money now more than ever.
I took a calming breath and stared up at the ceiling.
I couldn’t care about the pain, not really. Couldn’t care about the humiliation or the suffering, or the prospect of being a fuck doll for men over the entire planet.