Mine

by Clio Evans

Good girl. Everyone thought I was good. But I didn’t want to be good anymore.

I couldn’t just go around dominating people in coffee shops on random Thursday mornings. Not only was that probably against the ethics of practicing good and safe kink, it was fucking weird.

Being a songwriter in Nashville was the equivalent of being a shiny penny in a fountain. We were all used up wishes waiting to be picked up and dried off, or forever forgotten.

Music was burned into the cells of my toxic, cursed blood. The buzz of it hummed through me as I sang.

It was an addiction burning through me, ruining me and everyone who heard it.

But I had a corruption kink. And this was where I felt most at home—turning a crowd of strangers into heathens and feeding off...

I was hungry. I was hungry for her. I was hungry for whatever just happened, whatever was happening.

“Take me home with you,” I whispered. “I want you. I promise it’ll be good.”

“I need to hear you say it,” I said. “I need you to ask me to come home with you.”

“I said ask me.”

Who was Pepper? Who was the woman that moved through life like a shark, but was otherwise in desperate need of a net?

“That’s fine,” I said nonchalantly, but decided to add, “I wouldn’t be mad if you did. Because I’m not going to fuck you unless you’re begging me to, Pepper.”

Are you worried about what people might think—someone who looks like you, walking home with someone who looks like me? Is it the tattoos, Pepper? The clothes I wear?”

Salt had the voice of the devil. And I really wanted to be a good little sinner.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Say the word. It must feel so dirty on those perfect lips.”

“Then why did every muscle in your body tense? Sex. Is that what you want, Pepper? Do you want sex? Do you want to be fucked? Does your pussy crave a cock that’ll make her weep?”

I stared at him. I was lost. I was so lost in him. Who was this stranger? This singer? This demon?

haven’t wanted to fuck someone this badly in my entire life,” he whispered. “So you’re not doing anything wrong. I want you. I want your submission.”

“Outside the bedroom, I doubt anyone could truly tell you what to do. But behind closed doors, in my arms, vulnerable. Needy.”

“I want you to kneel down on the floor and unlace my boots.”

Salt didn’t squeeze my neck, instead just letting his grip rest there, a necklace of comfort.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“We don’t have time for you to be a brat tonight,” I said. “If you want to do this again, then we’ll find another time for you to try and disobey. Understood?”

It only made me want to show her that this type of hunger—this type of carnal desperation—wasn't wrong. In fact, it was normal.

She craved corruption. I craved corrupting her. Ruining her. Fucking her until she begged and cried and came over and over.

“Being punished like a little brat, spanked and forced into submission. Fucking answer me. Now.”

“Your pleasure is my gift to you,”

“You’re going to come for me even if you don’t want to. I don’t care what you want. Only what I want, and that’s for you to come on my fingers.”

“Pepper,” I gritted out. “Suck my fucking cock.” “Yes, Sir.”

“Am I bad at this?” “No,” I growled. “Keep sucking me, Pepper, before I fuck your throat without mercy.”

Serving him felt right.

The word mine was inked on the inside of his wrist. Possessive and demanding, just like him.

“Sit on my face while you choke on my cock,” he demanded.

“Pepper, I swear to fucking god if you don’t suck my cock right now, I’m going to force you to.”

“Sit on my face. Now.”

“Then use your words.”

“You need someone who will make you forget about all of that,” he murmured. “Someone with a firm hand, hmm? Someone who won’t judge you for whatever you want to try.”

“Beg,” Salt demanded. “I told you earlier I’m not fucking you until you beg for it, Pepper. Beg me for this cock. Beg me to breed your needy little cunt. Beg me to fuck you until you forget who you are.”

Everything I’d begged for in my life came roaring back. A mother who loved me. A father who loved me. A husband who loved me. A god who loved me.

No one has ever made me feel this way.” “Feel what way?” “Desperate,” I rasped. “Needy. Please. Please, please.”

“Please fuck me,” I whispered. “I need it. I need it more than anything else.”

“You need my cock more than anything else?”

“Yes.” My lips buzzed with the admission. “More than anything else...

“Earn it,”

“Take you?” he questioned. “Such a romantic word. Taking.”

Maybe I was a cock slut. Maybe this was what I’d been waiting for my entire life.

You need to treat this pussy better.”

“Touch yourself. Show me how wet you are for my cock.”

“This poor pussy has been neglected,” he growled against my lips. “It has,” I cried. “It has. It’s needed you.”

In that moment, he was my savior. He was my god.