Dirty Ugly Toy (20 page)

“Can we go shopping one day?”

I raise a confused brow. “Bunny, you have a closet full of clothes, from the finest retailers in Seattle.”

She frowns and looks away. “Never mind.”

I reach for her hand and she lets me take it. Dragging her out of the Theater Room, I head toward the Hole. I know we’re supposed to be going to dinner but I want to fuck her before we go. She needs to be dripping with my cum during dinner. That’s what good whores do—they drip with their owner’s cum.

There’s no resistance on her part as I push through the unlocked door and into the room. The light’s still on from last night and the air is cold like it’s supposed to be.

“On your knees, skank.” I give her a small shove toward the mattress.

She saunters over there as if she owns the fucking place and gets on all fours. “Like this, master?”

I groan as I begin unfastening my pants. “I want to see your ass when I fuck you. Push your panties down and lift up your dress.”

Her chuckle is fake but it stirs my cock. “But master,” she purrs, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Tugging my hard-as-steel dick from my pants, I saddle up behind her. Bruises mar her ass and it makes me want to put them all over her body—but with my mouth.

“Are you wet?” I question.

She shakes her head. “No, sir.”

“Good.” I line my cock up against her opening and shove myself inside of her.

Her scream isn’t one of pain and with how easily I slid in, I know she was lying. She’s so fucking wet and I’m confused. My toy hates me yet she’s eager for me to fuck her. This shit hole of a room turns her on.

I have half a mind to drag her unwilling ass into the Princess Room and fuck her there. But I don’t have any rope handy and I’m guessing she’d try to run. I’ll save that little fantasy for another day.

“Does your ass hurt?” I question as I thrust into her.

She whimpers every time my nuts slap against her clit and it turns me right the fuck on. “Yes, sir.”

“Does my dick make it all better?”

“Yes, sir.”

Reaching into her knotty hair, I tangle my fingers in it and yank. She yelps but her pussy clenches around my cock. My toy likes it rough.

“Beg for me to spank you again, Bunny.”

She whines. “Please don’t.”

“Bunny,” I warn with a growl.

I’m surprised when she falls to her elbows and offers her ass up to me. I take her deeper and groan. Jesus, she feels so fucking good.

“Beg, baby.”

“Please spank me, master.”

My sight darkens with pleasure and my groin tightens. She clenches her butt cheeks as she prepares for a spanking which makes her body grip my cock. It’s intense. I crave to pause this moment with her. To live inside of her for eternity. My thoughts are running wild in my head as I live in the sheer fucking pleasure she rewards me with. She tenses, waiting for pain—pain I’m not sure I can even deliver because I’m too frozen in the moment that’s her. I don’t spank her but I do cum without warning.

“Shit!”

She gasps and as I throb into her, her body begins to shudder, milking my dick as if I could suddenly produce more cum for her. Her body is still shaking when I yank out of her.

Fuck!

This was supposed to drag on. To last longer than three goddamned seconds. I wanted to whip her and hurt her. I fucking wanted to own her mind and body for hours as I kept her away from her much coveted bliss.

But instead, she messed with my damn head. I lost myself in her again. This woman confuses the hell out of me and she’s ruining my carefully constructed plans.

I stand with a disgusted snarl and shove my wet dick back into my pants. All through dinner I want to feel her sticky pussy mixed with my seed.

“Pull your dress down, whore. We’re going to dinner.”

She stands and drags her short dress back over her ass with a satisfied smile playing at her lips as if my instructions were normal. The two of us are
not
fucking normal. I want to be pissed at her—for scrambling my brain—but the fire is simmering. A smile of my own tugs at my lips against my will.

“What are we having?” Her curious expression snuffs out my anger and I can’t help but think she’s cute.
Especially knowing my hot cum is running down her thighs.

Chuckling, I reach for her hand. “My favorite. Today’s been a good day, Bunny. I’m pleased with your progress. You’re making me very happy.”

She flashes me a shy grin and my cock reacts. But I’m fucking starved. I’ll have her suck our juices off later for dessert. Her hand slides into mine and the iciness of it sobers me right the fuck up. Dragging her out of the room, I hastily get her to the elevator and out of the Hole.

We get onto the elevator and she shivers. Even though she looks like the prostitute she is, her wide, green eyes are eager. For food. Just like me. When you live on the streets, food becomes just as much of a drug as heroin or cocaine.

“Christine is a fantastic cook. You haven’t had home cooking like hers,” I tell her, excitement in my voice.

She raises a challenging brow. “Then you, sir, have not had Jessica’s Famous Fried Chicken. One taste and you’ll be mine forever,” she teases.

The thought of her bouncing around the kitchen with flour on her nose stirs much more than my cock this time. An ache forms inside my chest and I don’t like it.

“Can we go shopping tomorrow?”

Her question once again confuses me. “What is your obsession with shopping?”

She swallows, her icy hand in mine becomes clammy. “I wanted to get some yoga pants and some T-shirts.”

I start to protest but stop to listen to her next whispered words.

“And I was hoping I could get some socks,” she says, turning her sad eyes to mine. “My feet have been so cold.”

The ache is in my chest again.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with this toy.

But I know for sure that tomorrow we’re going to buy her some fucking socks. Every goddamn pair at every goddamn store.

“B
unny?”

The voice. Dark, rich, powerful. It tugs me from my dreams and I run to it willingly. As I blink open my eyes, I’m reminded that I’m in the Hole. After dinner, Brax left me to “turn in early.” I came upstairs, washed all the whore makeup off and combed out my ratty hair, donned a robe, and crawled onto the piss mattress in the Hole to sleep.

I’m sure the closet or the Theater Room would have been warmer but they don’t smell like him. Braxton Kennedy. The dickhead who I’m hopelessly attracted to. Yesterday had been humiliating—and that’s saying something coming from a used up whore. Had it been his friends or even the doctor or Dubois, I could have dealt better. But Christine and Cartier had been there. They were horrified, I could sense it. And I was embarrassed. I’d hardly said two words to Christine the rest of the day. It was a little more difficult to avoid Cartier though. That man just gets right up in your face and suffocates you with his delicious manly scented bear hugs. He promised me things would get better though and I clung onto a false sense of hope.

But the thing that has my mind reeling is what happened
after
they left the room. When it was just Brax and I. He’d said terrible things to me and I liked it. It wasn’t like my past where I’d been ridiculed by someone who I thought loved me. Instead, it was like he said these dark, dirty things to reach some sexual animal inside of me that I’d kept well-hidden over the years. I’m still confused about how my body responded and desperately craved his vicious words. A warmth flushes over my chest and my heart flutters.

I’m sick. Just like I accused him of being. And I look forward to more. Maybe I do need to chat with Natalie and try and figure out what’s wrong with me.

“Bunny!”

The voice again.

“In here,” I respond and sit up as the door flings open.

His massive frame hulks in the doorway and his chest heaves. He probably thinks his precious toy ran away. Well, he’d be wrong. It’ll take a lot more than a few spankings and him humiliating me for me to leave. This money could mean a new future for me. For once, I’m wondering what that future could hold.

“Jesus, Jessica, it’s fucking cold in here and you don’t even have a blanket. Come here.”

The fact that he called me by my name has my heart fluttering at that hope that Cartier told me to hold on to. Because even though awful things come from his mouth, he can also be sweet. The sweet is what somehow makes it all better. When he held me yesterday after all he’d done to me, I felt whole. It doesn’t quite make sense in my head but I like both. A lot.

Brax and I are cut from the same complicated, dirty cloth.

He reaches for my hands and I take them, allowing him to pull me to a standing position. His grey, stormy eyes from yesterday are gone and he regards me with the deep blue ones that make me feel revered.

“Get showered and dressed,” he tells me, pushing a dark strand of hair from my eyes. “I’m taking you shopping.”

I squeal in delight which earns me a breathtaking smile. Before I can stop myself, I fling my arms around his neck and kiss his warm lips. “Thank you.”

He nods and I break free to get ready. Half an hour later, I’ve found the most comfortable outfit in the closet after a quick, hot shower: a pair of charcoal-colored pleated pants, a pair of snakeskin, black heels, and a white, ribbed sweater that fits my body like a glove, accentuating my breasts and flat tummy. I don’t find any jewelry but find a black and grey, patterned scarf to hang around my neck. My makeup, I do minimally but enough that I decide I look pretty and my hair which has begun to dry wild, gets pulled up into a messy bun that looks like I spent hours styling it that way.

After a few minutes staring into the mirror, I decide I look . . .

Normal.

Like the old me.

The thought cuts me deep and I hurry away from the mirror. Brax is no longer upstairs and I find him in the dining room shoveling in some scrambled eggs. Today, he’s not wearing a suit and I want to eat him up. His solid chest is decadent encased in a fitted, mocha-colored long-sleeved Henley. He’s styled his hair in a messier-than-usual way and as I approach, I’m jealous to see him wearing a sexy pair of nice jeans while I don less casual clothes.

His need to humiliate me was confusing at first but now I’m beginning to understand him more. Brax is aroused sexually by sadistic behavior, but he’s not evil. I know fucking evil. He may get off on calling me a whore, but most of the time he’s more human than monster, and he always sees to it that he pleasures me beyond my wildest dreams. I seem to crave both the man and the dark creature that lies beneath. What he does to me isn’t unforgiveable. In fact, I know that if I were to press the issue, he’d back down. Say the safe word. Pause. I’d have my ass out on the street but I’m not his prisoner.
I’ll never be anyone’s prisoner again.
Brax simply has a complicated sexual appetite. And lucky for him, I’m a complicated woman who clearly gets off on what he does to me.

“Bunny,” he says, his voice quiet as he sets the fork down on the plate. “You look . . .”

I smile and steal the buttered toast from his plate. “Normal?”

My cheeks burn because now I’m embarrassed. I look like the woman who would wear something like this every day for work a decade ago. That same woman whose biggest concern was making sure the clothes had been taken to the dry cleaners or that she changed her oil every three-thousand miles. I’m jealous of her simple life before it all went to hell.

“I was going to say beautiful.” His voice is gruff and he hungrily drinks up my appearance. Then, he smirks—oh, that sexy smirk of his—and winks. “You’ll never be normal, Bunny. You’re a weird one.”

I swat him playfully and sit on the edge of the table. He finishes his eggs while I devour both slices of his toast. Brax doesn’t even argue when I gulp down half his orange juice. I’m smiling when I catch Christine staring at me from the kitchen. She seems pleased with me which is a vast improvement from yesterday. I’ll take what I can get with her. I actually like Christine and don’t want her to be unhappy with me.

Brax stands and helps me to my feet before depositing his dishes in the sink. “Chris, we’ll be back by dinner.”