Page 71 of Auctioned

What terrifies me is that there’s a fissure in mine as well.

I can’t concentrate, can’t go back to being myself when he takes up so much space.

“Thank you,” I whisper from my place on the floor.

“I promised to reward you for being good.” He tucks himself in. Reaches over to where he left the food and water, dragging them over. Leaving them at his side, close. Frustration raises a scream in my throat that I won’t let out. “You were. Eventually. But…”

He leans in. His silence is deafening. Bone-chilling. I’m stuck in place, unable to do anything except watch him slide his hand down my body. Under my panties.

I gasp when he dips two fingers into my pussy. I half-expect, half-wish that he’ll make me come again. On his fingers this time.

Thankfully, he spares me from having another reason to hate myself. James pulls them out.

Then, because he can, he shows me there are more ways to humiliate me than just making me come.

He pushes them past my lips, rubbing my orgasm on my tongue.

“Taste yourself.” Back and forth they go, smearing my juices on me. “Suck.”

Arguing is useless. When I finally clamp my lips around him, I’m not sure I should argue at all. He isn’t aggressive, doesn’t shove his fingers so deep that I gag.

Whatever this is, it bathes me in warmth. I stop thinking. Stop analyzing and plotting and just suck.

“You’ll take what I give you.” He leaves my mouth empty, cupping my cheeks in his two firm hands. “Say you understand.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs against my lips. Steals my breath away by pressing his lips to mine, being harsh and demanding as he coaxes my mouth open.

His tongue swipes along mine, and he groans at his taste. At my orgasm.

Our orgasms.

“Keep your mouth open for me.” He pops the cap off the bottle and fills his mouth with water.

Nothing about him suggests that we shared a mind-numbing kiss just now.

Why do I even care how he feels about this?

Water. I should focus on the fact that I’m about to take my first drink in hours.

James grabs my chin. His thumb on my bottom lip, pulling it down. My lips parted, James spits the water from his mouth to mine.

“I’ll show you how merciful I can be when you behave.” James tips the bottle to his lips and takes another sip. Two of them.

His eyes are always on me. He doesn’t swallow.

I’m leaning closer when he does, impatient and needy. For the water. Not for him. It’s impossible to be wet from a man letting me drink by spitting water into my mouth.

He isn’t just any man, though.

He’s my owner.

I must be high. Endorphins must be swarming through my blood. Distorting my common sense.

This has to be why I dig my fingers deeper into his thighs. Tip my head even higher. Sway closer the more water laps at my tongue and goes down my throat.

I swallow it hungrily. My eyes delve deeper into his soul. I can’t squeeze them shut, can’t imagine looking anywhere else.

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