Dirty Ugly Toy

by K. Webster

  Despite not being the toy I originally wanted, I’m pleased to see that she cleaned up well. She’s actually fairly attractive—something we discovered once she stopped stinking like a fucking pig and we scrubbed all the shit off her face. Her wide green eyes are no longer dull—they instead flare with fury all day long as she undoubtedly plots my untimely death. When she catches me staring at her, that pert little nose of hers turns a few shades of pink. And when she does speak, which isn’t often lately, her perfect pouty lips get my dick hard every time.

  For a week now, I’ve dreamed of her mouth and what it can do. One of the reasons I choose homeless prostitutes is because I know they’re well educated on the art of fucking. Nothing I suggest surprises them much. And the other matters, they learn to cope with.

  But this toy?

  Her supple mouth screams that she’s good at giving head. I want to tangle my fingers in her wrong colored hair and watch her worship my cock like a good girl. I can’t wait to fuck with her heart and her mind—to push her to the brink of insanity. The ones who are tougher are the most fun to break. I can almost imagine the moment that it happens.

  Her jade-colored eyes finding mine. The hate and anger fading away. Love for me shining through. Shocked words of thanks coming from her mouth. Thanking me for my generosity. For the pain I deliver—because I always follow it with sweet pleasure. Her eagerness to do any goddamned thing I ask of her.

  The perfect toy.

  “You’re going to eat. I don’t care if I have to tie your ass up and hand feed you, I will. You aren’t starving on my watch. I’m paying you a big sum of fucking money to be mine. And I take care of what’s mine. Now get your ass over to that table and wait for your food. I’m calling in an order now.” My tone is blunt and matter of fact. I won’t negotiate with her.

  She glares at me as she slides off the ledge and saunters toward me. I half expect another bitchy meltdown like in the shower last week and I prepare to physically restrain her again if need be. Instead, she storms past me toward the table, clipping my shoulder along the way. Her sweet scent, honey and vanilla from the hotel body wash, envelopes me and I hunger to taste her. With quick reflexes, I snatch her bicep and haul her into my arms.

  Blazing green eyes meet mine and I stare into them for a moment. She’s holding back vile words that are on the very tip of her tongue. Words that will get her punished harshly. Her ass has recently nearly healed and I know she fears I’ll hurt her again should she cross the line.

  I will.

  I will make her hurt so fucking bad she’ll beg to be dirty, cold, and homeless again.

  My threat seeps from my own glare and she flinches slightly. This toy of mine likes to pretend she’s tough but deep down, she knows who the master is. I’ll own every single part of her for the next five months and three weeks.

  Everything in me screams to choke her. Slap the look of defiance from her face. Shove her to the ground and fuck her until she screams.

  But for now, I’ll settle.

  The tamer side of me just wants a taste. He’s not as greedy. He’s the patient one—the one who holds the leash to the uncontrollable villain in my head.

  Taste her.

  Dipping my mouth to hers, I inhale the peppermint scent of the hot tea she sipped on earlier. She smells fucking delicious. I can’t wait to get her home and in my bed.

  She attempts to pull away but my hands slide into her messy hair and hold her still. Turning her head slightly to the left, I then tilt it back. Her bare throat begs to be marked and bitten. For now, it will have to settle for being suckled.

  The gasp which escapes her the moment my lips connect with the flesh just below her ear hardens my dick and I crave to plunge it inside of her tight heat. Flicking my tongue out, I lick her salty skin and revel in her unique flavor. I want to taste every part of her to see if some parts are sweet. When she whimpers, I suck the flesh between my teeth to give her something to whine about. I suck hard enough to leave a bruise and then release her skin with a loud, vulgar pop.

  “Salty. Just like your attitude.” I release her and give her a tiny shove back toward the table.

  Dinner is less than memorable. She pokes at her food while I shop on my phone. Now that I’ve seen her, understand her personality a bit better, I want to have things ready for her at my home.

  “What’s your shoe size?” I grumble.

  “Why? So you’ll know how big of a foot I shove up your arse?”

  I raise my gaze from my phone to see her glaring at me over her hardly touched vegetable soup. Her eyebrow is arched in a way meant to challenge me.

  “So much to learn,” I say with a growl, ignoring the way my cock flares to life. “Just wait until when your lessons begin. When I teach you that good little toys should be seen and not heard.”

  Clearly unimpressed with my threat, she stands abruptly and stalks her barefoot ass toward the door. “Fuck your stupid agreement. I was doing just fine until the Dark Prince Uncharming showed up in his black car with his black butler and started trying to rule my black goddamn life.”

  The door swings open but I’ve already stormed over to her and shove the door back closed. She spins around to face me. The woman is tiny and much shorter than I am, but her glare could cut diamonds. Last week, I assumed she’d be pliable. Easy to mold into the perfect toy. But now, now I can tell she’ll be my biggest challenge yet.

  In a gentle move, I drag my fingertips down her cheek and along her throat, my menacing stare never leaving hers. “What do you want? To suck my cock like you did for all those stupid fuckers back on the street? Want me to call you baby? Is that what you want, Bunny?”

  Her eyes fall to my lips and her firm stance relaxes. “I don’t know what I want,” she finally replies in a whisper.

  I inhale her hair and dip my lips to the shell of her ear. “Well, that’s a good thing because I do know what I want. I want you, Jessica. I have such beautiful fucking plans for you. So, be a good girl and let me play with you.”

  My hot breath on her ear elicits a moan from her. It’s small and nearly inaudible but I hear it. So my little toy likes to be sweet-talked. She turns into a mushy pile of goo when I say her name. I’ll use it as a bargaining tool. I will play her little game until she’s secure in my bed back home.

  “Jessica.”

  She whimpers again and I know exactly how to play with her. “What?”

  “We have a long day of traveling tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

  I’m pleased when she doesn’t fight me and allows me to guide her back over to the bed. With gentle tugs and pulls, I remove her clothing piece by piece. I know all too well the craving to be touched and for the time being, I’ll indulge my little toy.

  Besides, she’ll pay me back tenfold the moment we step into my home.

  I’ll be free to unleash my inner demons.

  I’ll use her like she’s agreed so easily to do.

  Once we’re both naked and in bed, I pull her close to me. Her butt is almost completely free of the bruising, so I hug her tight. With her sweet ass pressed against my dick, I dream of what it will feel like when I finally push into her hot body. Right now, I wish I could pause the moment. To close my eyes and simply hold the warm, complicated woman. To silence who I am—who she is—and bury my nose in her hair, forgetting everything if only for a brief period. It’s such an alluring notion.

  After some time, when I’m almost asleep, she speaks. “Brax, why haven’t you slept with me yet? I mean you hired a prossie and all. Do you not want me?”

  Her voice, so soft and uncertain, gets my cock hard, despite her using my name. Nudging it against her ass, I sweep the hair away from her ear and bring my lips to it. “Quite the opposite, Jessica. I want you so bad it physically hurts to refrain from flipping you over right now and fucking you into tomorrow.”

  “But? The doctor said I’m clean . . .” she trails off as if she believes this is why I’ve waited.

  “But I have cert
ain needs and desires,” I murmur against the shell of her ear. “And they can’t be met in London. It isn’t safe here. Back home, I can be free to play with my toy however I desire.”

  She shivers at my words so I slide my hand down between her legs to distract her from more questions. My finger slides over the thatch of dark hair between the lips of her pussy and I lazily work her clit. Sex for these prostitutes is a job. I’ll soon take away that mentality.

  “Relax,” I coo, “I want you to have a taste of what I want to give you.”

  Her body does relax and soon, with every firm circle of my finger, she rotates her hips in an opposite way, helping her reach her climax. A small gasp rushes from her and her body quivers. If I weren’t paying attention, I’d have missed it.

  So small.

  So sweet.

  So seemingly insignificant.

  Sort of like my toy.

  “Most women scream and cry and act like they’ve been possessed when they orgasm,” I say softly. Even up until the day I got rid of Swan, she was a screamer.

  “I’m not like most women.”

  Her words charge into my head and root themselves inside my brain. I try to brush them off and imagine what sort of plans I have for her, but as she strokes the back of my hand that rests between her legs, I’m dragged to the present.

  The darkness in the room warms me.

  Her presence soothes me.

  Those tender touches distract me.

  “Goodnight, Brax,” she mutters so soft, I almost don’t hear. But I do hear. And that’s number two that I’ve allowed to slither on by without a word edgewise. If I weren’t wrapped around her like she was my girl rather than my toy, I’d slip out of bed and add the tally mark to my notebook so I don’t forget.

  I almost chuckle aloud.

  Of course I won’t forget.

  I never forget.

  “Mama.” I shake her with my tiny hand, “Wake up.”

  I jerk my hand back because her skin is so cold. Snot runs down my lip and I wipe it away with the back of my sleeve. Mama sleeps so much. Sometimes I wish she would just play with me or cuddle me to keep me warm.

  “Mama,” I try again, this time I start to cry. “I’m hungry.”

  She rolls over and makes a scary noise like a monster. “Ummmmm.”

  Her booby hangs out, so I grab the blanket and cover it up. “Mama, my belly hurts.”

  She jibbers on about something but I don’t know what she means. Last night when she brought me to this man’s apartment and made me sleep in the closet while she worked, I was scared. I wanted to go back to the shelter. At least there, Mama doesn’t act sick and there are other kids to play with.

  “My purse,” she grumbles out eventually.

  I scramble to find her purse and I’m glad the weird man from last night is gone. He scared me and made my mama scream all night. Her purse is heavy for my six-year-old self but I hope it’s because she stuffed it full of food.

  “I’m hungry, Mama.”

  She ignores me as she sits up. Her brown hair is messy and I hope she brushes it soon. I don’t like it when she looks sick.

  The first thing she pulls out of her purse though are her smokes. She lights one up and sucks in a swoosh of breath before blowing it all out around me. After a few minutes, she digs around in her purse again to pull out her special stuff.

  “Mama needs her medicine first and then we’ll go find some food,” she assures me as she pulls out her burned up spoon and baggie.

  I wipe the snot across my face again and wait for her to get well. When Mama gets better, I hope she becomes a nurse so she can help other people get better too. She pats the mattress on the floor beside her and I scramble under the covers with her. I watch in awe as she cooks her special medicine.

  She squirts it in her body with the shot and soon falls backward onto the bed.

  “Mama, I’m hungry. Don’t go to sleep.”

  The shot hangs out of her arm and I’m scared she’ll sleep and never wake up.

  “C-crackers in my p-purse, Bra . . .”

  Her soft snores fill the room and I start to cry. I don’t like it when Mama sleeps so much. Since she’s so sleepy, I carefully pull the shot out of her arm and hold my dirty thumb to where it bleeds a little. It eventually stops and when it does, I know she will sleep for a long time. I start to cry so much that the snot runs into my mouth. Again, I swipe it with my shirtsleeve to clean it away. I’m so cold and Mama is warming me up but I’m hungry.

  I slide out from under the blanket and start digging through her purse. There aren’t any crackers, only a stick of chewing gum. My belly hurts so bad but I don’t want to take her gum. She says she needs it for work.

  Crying loudly now, I scramble back under the warm covers and cuddle against my naked mama. Those scary men make her take her clothes off and give her money after. I wish I had money to give her so she could buy us something to eat. I would never make her take her clothes off and be cold. I’ve almost fallen asleep when the bed becomes much warmer. Mama peed the bed again. Her medicine makes her do it sometimes. Liking the warmth it puts off, I pee too and snuggle against her side.

  I love my mama and hope she gets better soon.

  The cold flesh under my palm alarms me and I jerk up, ignoring the grey, early morning light pouring in through the window and scramble away from her. It takes me a second to realize that in the middle of the night, my toy kicked the covers off us. The room is fucking freezing and from the looks of it outside, we’re in for some nasty cold weather. I suppress a shudder, the memory from last night lingering thick in the air, and charge for the heat of the shower.

  It isn’t until the hot water scalds my flesh and I’m dizzied from the warm steam that I allow myself to understand what just happened.

  This new toy.

  She’s different.

  Too different.

  I worry that despite her being my special twentieth anniversary present to myself, I actually saddled myself with someone who will figure out a way to infect my carefully sterilized mind. It’s been over a decade since I last dreamt about my mother and yet here I am thinking about her.

  Dubois is going to have to deal with Bunny until we get home. I can’t lose my shit. Not when I’m so close to bringing her home.

  I won’t let her take this away from me.

  She will be my special toy.

  I deserve her.

  And I will enjoy every goddamned minute that I spend fucking up her mind and heart like mine was done so many years ago.

  Payback’s a bitch and Bunny’s about to repent for the sins of my mother.

  I’m shocked when we climb onto the small aircraft that Braxton, myself, and Dubois are the only passengers on, aside from the one flight attendant and two pilots. I haven’t yet asked him what he does for a living but the man is fucking loaded. He and Dubois are both handsome in their matching black suits. Brax fills his out a little better. Despite being lean, he’s more broad and muscular than Dubois.

  Braxton’s blue eyes are a stormy grey today that match the fall London sky. Last night, he showed me a sweet side, and I’d be a damn liar if I didn’t admit I was drawn to it. But then, this morning, he woke up with another chip on his shoulder. He didn’t mutter anything to me aside from simple instructions to dress or to eat.

  Normally, my feisty nature wins out, especially once I’m freed of the heroin blanket that always cloaks me. However, today, I decided to bite my tongue and play things by ear. Over half a million pounds is a lot of money and I don’t want to mess that up by getting on Brax’s bad side.

  “Buckle in. We’ll be taking off soon,” he says in a gruff voice, eyes never meeting mine.

  I sigh and clip the belt over my lap. My eyes skim over the outfit Dubois brought me. A pair of jeans, a little on the baggy side. An oversized sweatshirt beneath a black pea coat keep me warm. And comfy runners are laced up and snug on my feet. Brax had asked me my shoe size and I’d never told him. I guess D
ubois is just pretty good at estimating.

  “We’ll layover in New York to refuel and once again in Denver.” Brax’s voice is bored while his attention is focused on his laptop.

  My eyes flit over to Dubois who wears a concerned glare. His furrowed brows are bunched together and his gaze is on his boss. At least I’m not the only one who’s noticed he’s acting strange.

  We’re soon in the air and I swallow down memories of another life—one I’d rather not think about. Instead, I close my eyes and wonder about Brax’s home. Will he have a pool? Does he have a dog? Will he leave me to my own devices while he runs off to work?

  A grunt startles me and I pop my eyes open. Dubois is unbuckling and I jerk my head over to see Brax sleeping. But he’s disturbed and it almost sounds like he’s whimpering. Following Dubois’ lead, I unbuckle, shed my coat, and scramble over to him.

  “Don’t wake him,” he hisses, anxiety lacing his voice.

  I glare at him as if he has three heads. “He’s having a bad dream. Of course we need to wake him.”

  Ignoring the man’s instruction, I reach for his boss only to have my hand jerked away. “Miss, he could become violent. I’ve been around him during his rages. Please,” he grunts, “I implore you to leave it be.”

  Violent.

  As if that word scares me.

  I shrug out of his grip and climb into Braxton’s lap. His body seems cold so I snuggle against his chest and press kisses against his neck. From behind me, Dubois utters a string of curse words.

  “Shhhh,” I whisper, “I have you now.”

  The moment Braxton’s body grows tense, I realize he’s woken up. I tilt my head back to regard him and nearly shudder at his murderous scowl. A normal person would retreat back to their seat.

  But I’ve never been normal.

  With a shaking hand, I swipe his unruly hair out of his eyes and smile at him. “You need a haircut.”

  His grey eyes soften and he smirks. “And you need another dye job. Guess we’ll both be visiting Cartier when we get back.”

  He gives me a tiny shove and I climb out of his lap. Once I’m back in my seat I question him. “Who’s Cartier?”