Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,146

need and want flowing through me.

“I want my hand to sting when I’m done with you.” His dick hardens beneath me and I feel it pulsing against me. I whimper from the teasing torture he’s putting me through.

He sets his hand flat against my ass and lowers his lips to my ear, his piercing green finding mine in the mirror. “I’ll let you watch tonight. And if you’re good, I’ll let you ride my face and then fuck yourself on my dick. But if you make one sound, one movement, you’ll get none of that, and you’ll go right to bed once I’ve rubbed the cream on your ass so you can at least sit tomorrow.”

I want so badly to breathe, to blink, to move. But his dirty words and dark promises keep my gaze straight ahead, locked into his trance.

“Yes, Master.”

I count the smacks along my ass in my head, each one making me wetter and wetter, anticipating the reward for being such a good girl for him. My body jolts and after only eleven, my thighs are soaked.

At fifteen, the tears start to leak from the corner of my eyes and he starts fingering me, playing with my pussy between the blows.

At twenty-one, he picks up the pace, eager to end it, I think.

I was such a good girl for him.

He whispers it as he fucks me. Good girl.

I pass out in his arms, sated and exhausted, and I think… I think he whispers it again as he kisses my hair and then leaves me alone in the room.

Chapter 19

Isaac

I sigh heavily, hearing the words of my mother and that abusive prick. Worthless.

That’s the word she loved to use.

“Why are you up?” she asks, and my mother’s voice is flat and hoarse. She’s at the small kitchen table wearing nothing but a ripped nightshirt and a hot pink bra underneath.

Memories of what life used to be like flash before my eyes. The laughter and pancakes. Mom used to cook. Back before everything changed.

Now the fridge is always empty and the linoleum floor is always dirty from whatever she did last night with him. I’ll clean it all up after school. It’ll be okay. I can fix this.

Her eyes are so red as she rocks at the table. I know she’s high. I’m old enough to know. I think my teacher knows. Mrs. Klintsova keeps asking me questions. But I don’t tell them anything. I don’t want her to get in trouble. She just needs help. I can help my mom. I love her.

She must know that.

“I never should’ve kept you. I knew your father was going to leave me.”

I stare at my mother, not understanding. Dad died overseas. “He died at war.” The words come out before I can stop myself, and I wish they hadn't. Mom lunges from the table, her ripped night shirt exposing the bright bra underneath. She smacks me hard across the face, gripping my shoulders and yelling into my ear.

“You’re just like him!” She keeps shaking me, and I let her. She just needs to get it out of her system. I know she’s hurting. I wish someone would help her. Tears roll down my cheeks and that only makes my mom angrier, but I can’t help it.

It all hurts. I just want my mom back.

I stare at the ceiling, not moving. These memories come to me often, and they only remind me of the fucked up past that made me who I am. But I’m fine with that. I’ve grown to realize I can live with knowing who I really am.

I’m not worthless to Katia. I can do so much for her. She’ll put her faith in me, she’ll give me control, and I’ll give her everything she needs.

It’s important that she has privacy, a place that she feels at home. I know this, but I hate it. I want her tied to my bed so I can take her easily in the morning.

I roll onto my back, the sheets and thick comforter pulling with me. The dim light of the moon spilling through the slit in the curtains and casting shadows across my bedroom floor.

She’s doing so well. She’ll adjust soon. She’s going to realize this isn’t what she anticipated.

She thinks she knows what a Master is, what’s required of a Slave… she has no fucking idea.

I can faintly hear the crickets from outside as a smile creeps up to my lips.

Just as quickly as it comes, it vanishes. A shrill