Virgin for Sale Page 4

  And slowly, I let out a big breath. No piano so far, or maybe it had already landed and I was just shaking from the aftereffects. Because I was in hot water now. Nothing was turning out the way I’d expected. I’d envisioned something like a charity auction where cheering crowds egg on their favorite bachelor or bachelorette, an MC leading the way, people milling about in formalwear.

  But instead, it was nothing like that. This was going to be a completely different experience. I’d be led, naked, before a group of alpha males, their eyes appraising, taking in everything. And oh god, but I was expected to display myself, to show my innermost secrets, inside so deep that I reddened again, my body going hot. Oh my god, what had I gotten myself into? But it was too late. I was already in the Club compound, deep within the innards of the Earth, with only hours to go before I was sold … and I had to be ready, no matter what.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Annie

  The rest of prep wasn’t bad at all. It mostly consisted of a luxurious bath and massage, plus getting my nails done, a facial, and a waxing session. Oh right, the waxing. That hadn’t been fun. An aesthetician had lumbered into the room, looking old school East German, huge and boxy with shoulders like a linebacker.

  “Annie?” she said, her accent thick, faded blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing a white apron like all the spa employees.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I ventured timidly. By now I was flushed and rosy from the pampering, a little more at ease despite the fact that a cold sweat still broke out whenever I thought about the events of tonight. So playing mind games with myself, I tried not to think about it at all. I tried to immerse myself in the luxuries, the warm bath water lapping at my curves, the soothing strain of classical music coming over the speakers. I would be okay. I would be okay.

  But Helga had a job to do, just like everyone else.

  “I have zee wax ready,” he said, stirring a small bowl. “Just let me know when you are ready.”

  “I’m ready,” I said timidly, pulling the fluffy white bathrobe up to bunch around my knees. I expected to get my legs waxed, maybe even my underarms.

  But Helga was no-nonsense. With big hands, she reached for my bathrobe and yanked the tie so that I was completely exposed on the massage table, huge boobies free, tiny twat visible.

  “Oh my god, what are you doing?” I squealed, scrambling to pull the edges of the fabric back over myself. “I thought you said this was a wax, not some strip show!”

  Helga’s brows lowered like a goomba, face going grim.

  “Dees ees a vaxing,” she said in a voice as deep as a man. “But vee vax your pussy. You see? No hair,” she continued.

  I grew red then, a full-body flush running all the way from my hairline to my toes.

  “My pussy?” I gasped incredulously. “No! It’s not necessary, I don’t need it.” My bush was just fine, maybe a little trimming was in order, but the brown hairs weren’t too unruly, they formed a small patch, dark and neat.

  But Helga wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “All off,” she said determinedly. “All. Club rules.”

  And then with firm fingers, she pried my thighs apart and dripped warm wax onto my privates. I squealed, it felt weird, the fluid stinging slightly when it landed on my skin but then easing into a smooth, even warmth. I’ve never been touched there before, and certainly not by another person, so to suddenly feel the sensuous ooze of hot wax on my pussy lips was tantalizing and dirty all at once, even in the confines of the sterile white room.

  “No,” I panted, looking down at my spread legs, pussy coated with the pink goo. “No, I’m good, thanks,” I panted furiously. But what could I do? The wax was already hardening, I was pinned down by the big woman, and even if I made a dash for it, there was nowhere to go. I was stuck at a compound somewhere in the middle of the Nevada desert, miles below the surface, no GPS could save me.

  “Eet vill be fine,” assured Helga, “Don’t worry,” she commanded, and with firm fingers and one stiff tug, a piece of wax came off with a giant “RRRip!”

  “Owww!” I howled, tears springing to my eyes involuntarily. Oh my god, it hurt, it hurt, my privates were burning like I’d just been seared with a hot iron. Ouch! Any pretense of being a lady, of being a delicate flower, pampered and nurtured, flew out of my head because this was like being in the ninth circle of Hell, my pussy hurt so bad, the flesh hot pink and stinging where it was revealed.

  “Not so bad right?” huffed Helga, big hands reaching forward again. I tried to squirm away, tried to twist my hips in another direction, to get this woman off me, but she was three hundred pounds and built like an NFL player. The East German pinned me down and with another loud “RRRip!” another patch of hair came off.

  “OOOWWW!” I howled again, tears spurting in my eyes, wriggling and screaming beneath her. “Ow ow ow!”

  But there was no mercy. Helga kept ripping away, quickly, fastidiously, strip after strip of my pubic hair coming off with each second, my privates on fire, literally burning so hard that I was crying like a hydrant now, tears streaming down my face as the agony on my mound continued. And Helga didn’t miss an inch. Not only did we get the top of my pussy, but also the bottom, down near my anus, and even a little inside

  “No, no, I don’t have any hair there, don’t!” I shrieked, panicked as the big woman’s fingers reached for a strip right around my hole, the soft vaginal tissue that would soon be exposed.

  But Helga’s expression only grew more determined.

  “Every lady needs vaxing,” she said, eyes fixed on my vulva. And with another painful tear, one that sent sparks shooting straight to my spinal cord, all the hair was gone, I was bare and nubile as a baby.

  Looking over her work, Helga leaned back and handed me a tissue.

  “Not so bad, right? Everybody needs a Helga,” she said, huffing with satisfaction as she scrutinized my bare cunt.

  I cried even harder, wiping the tears coursing down my cheeks. Not so bad? It’d been terrible, absolutely the worst experience of my life.

  But the East German nodded at my privates then, a smile breaking across her face.

  “You ready for the Club now,” she said, straightening her apron, pinning her bun a little tighter. “You beautiful for the Club now. Fetch very high price.”

  And I looked down at myself through the film of tears still clouding my eyes and gasped, because it was true. I did look different now. While I’ve always liked my small brown patch, now I was bare and nubile, my skin pink and fleshy, slit visible, even the nub of my clit standing out, peeping slightly between my lips. Before, you couldn’t see it unless I parted my legs, the thatch of hair masked things, my nether parts mysterious and veiled. But now it was all out in the open, and I gasped, shocked and a little titillated at the nakedness. Heck, my pussy even felt cold, thighs trembling as a breeze wafted in between, having lost its fur coat. It was different, that was for sure, and against my will I felt a little turned on at how beautiful I was, how gorgeous and symmetrical.

  “The Club members will appreciate,” grunted Helga. “And you’re welcome,” she said before letting herself out.

  I was silent for a moment, still looking down at myself.

  “Thank you,” I whispered quietly although the woman was already gone. Because yes, it this helped me get a higher price, if it spurred the billionaires to bid even higher on me, then it was worth it. I’d brave Hell to help my family, that was how determined I was.

  And after a few more beauty sessions in Prep, finally, the time had come. It was probably late at night, I’d lost all track of the hours, slowly bathing, getting my hair washed, indulging in the luxuries. And it had to pay off right? All this had to pay off in cold, hard cash, I needed it to.

  So biting my lip, I stood nervously in a small waiting room outside the auction chamber, dressed only in the cape and silver heels, hood pulled over my head. I didn’t know what to expect. There’d been no instructional video, no nothing, and so I ha
lf-expected some carnival barker to lead the bidding, talking a million miles an hour, sounding like a cartoon character on helium.

  Except suddenly a door slid open in the wall and a woman’s voice called, mild and robotic.

  “We are ready to begin the viewing of Article Thirty,” the voice said politely, echoing a bit.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. What was Article Thirty? What was she referring to? Suddenly a rush of doubt overtook me. Was this really happening? Was I really going to sell my virginity to a man who had nothing to recommend him but a fat wallet? He could be disgusting, a leper, amoral and evil, and I’d have no choice. Suddenly, a tidal wave of doubt crashed over my frame and I stepped back slightly, looking to retreat into the shadows once more.

  But it was too late because two black-gloved hands grabbed my elbows and gave me a little push, forcing me into the chamber. It wasn’t bad, I didn’t fall or anything, but I stumbled, tripping, the silver heels catching on the midnight blue robe before straightening once more.

  And it was then that the voice rang out again.

  “Article Thirty,” it intoned mildly. “Please step onto the dais.”

  Oh my god, I was Article Thirty? Why hadn’t they used my name, or at least a fake name? I didn’t have to be Annie, I could be Blaze or Candy or whatever they wanted. But reality took hold then. I was whatever they wanted. I was Article Thirty to these men, a possession to be owned, and my lack of a name only highlighted how I was an object, something to be desired, toyed with, played with, fucked, and then released back into the world.

  And this is what I’d signed up for. I’d gone into this with open eyes, knowing full well what was coming, and hell, the use of the term “Article Thirty” was nothing. It made no difference what they called me, so long as I got paid. They could call me Misty, Sparkles, She, a grunt, whatever they wanted, so long as the dollars landed in my bank account.

  So taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped forward. Sure, my knees were trembling but I made myself ignore it and walk gracefully into the chamber, stepping onto a circular stage at the center, before hesitantly pausing in my high, high heels, and peeking out from under my hood. The room definitely wasn’t your average room. For one, it wasn’t square, it was circular, and there were windows slotted in evenly spaced intervals around the perimeter, with a light above each window. I gasped. The bidders had to be behind the darkness. I couldn’t see them, but there had to be men inside, their eyes watching me, sizing me up at this very moment.

  I thought I’d be instructed to take off my robe then, but instead, a curious thing happened.

  “Gentlemen,” the voice intoned. “This is an open auction. Please untint your viewing panes.”

  And it was then that the windows flickered to life. Oh my god, oh my god. My instincts had been right. There was a man behind each window, and although I couldn’t make out their features clearly, these had to be the Club members. I caught the silhouette of one smoking, hair gelled to the side, another one leaning backwards indolently, completely at ease as I stood there, trembling like a rabbit. All the silhouettes looked huge, dominant, alpha, and a shiver ran down my frame, knees unsteady once again.

  But then the voice rang out once more.

  “Article Thirty, please remove your clothing.”

  I was prepared for this, at least. I knew what was coming, and with slow hands, I undid the waist tie of the robe, before throwing the hood back and letting the garment slip from my figure, the velvet sinuously, sensuously sliding from my shoulders. Several of the vague, shadowy figures sat forwards immediately in their booths, as if to get a better look at me, and sure enough the voice reminded them, “Bidders, your personal console is equipped with cameras. Please feel free to use your keyboard to zoom or pan whichever way you like on the product.”

  My cheeks grew red then. Of course, there had to be a million cameras on me right now, taking in my curvy form, homing in on the creamy skin, my knees, back, ass, my huge breasts, the nipples stiff from the cold air. And several of the men, I could see, immediately began toggling at something, like they were playing with a joystick. Oh god, they were directing the cameras likely, telling them to zoom in or zoom out, highlighting my luscious assets, looking where they wanted to look, every inch of me exposed.

  But this is what I’d signed up for. I’d gone into this eyes open, knowing exactly what I was here to do. And even more, but I had a directive – to fetch the highest price possible. So instead of waiting for the voice to tell me what to do next, I did it on my own. Slowly, I swiveled to the right, swaying my hips slightly, letting my body undulate. Like good girls, my breasts jiggled a bit, nips bouncing enticingly, and I ran one small hand up my hip and over my waist to cup a boob, holding it out as if it were an offering.

  Smiling slyly, I brought it up to my mouth. Oh yeah, my Double Ds are generous and there was plenty of breastflesh, so much that I licked my nipple, the tip stiff against my tongue before kissing it softly and turning to my other breast.

  With my left hand, I kneaded this one, throwing my head back, eyes half-closed with delight, letting my mind wander a bit. You’re here to do a job, I reminded myself sternly, eyes on the prize Annie, you need the cash. So swaying my body once more, I plucked at the hard tip, mouth opening with ecstasy before corkscrewing my fingers and pulling off the nub with an audible pop. Oh! That felt good.

  And suddenly lights began flashing like sirens above the booths, insistent, annoying, although there was no sound. I could see the shadowy figures of the billionaires bent over, watching me intently, gazes hot on my body, as they began to bid. But the voice continued, unperturbed.

  “Please be reminded,” the robotic woman said mildly. “That bidding will not begin until the viewing phase is over. Now Article Thirty, please rotate to the left.”

  The viewing phase? This was a structured auction, with different phases, not some free for all? Well, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everything was controlled at the Billionaires Club, they’d probably made the billionaires themselves sign a dozen documents just to participate in the auction. And it was better anyways because I intended to use the viewing phase to drive up my price, to get these men so hot, so bothered, that they’d hold nothing back, let their wallets bleed for a week with me.

  So slowly, swinging my hips once again, I gyrated to the left, twisting my torso and letting my feet follow a second later so that the narrowness of my waist was emphasized. Sighing, I played with my boobies, fingers flickering against my nipples, pulling and tugging, before with a mewl, I parted my thighs a bit, so a sliver of pink was visible, my pussy lips hinting at the inner delight.

  Immediately, lights began flashing once more, this time so many and so bright that my eyes opened involuntarily, a bit stunned. And it was then that I saw him. There was a man in the booth directly in front of me, watching me with appraising blue eyes. But instead of having his nose pressed to the window, hands up on the glass like a boy begging for a new puppy, he was leaned back, one foot crossed over his knee completely relaxed, like he was having a drink. And unbelievably, as I watched, one hand slowly lifted a glass, rock steady, in total control. Oh my god, he was having a drink, he was sipping on something in his booth, enjoying the show like I was a good movie.

  As our eyes met, electricity sizzled, his deep blue amused, clashing with my wide brown. My lips parted involuntarily, the air growing tight in my lungs. Who was this man? Who was this man who even now, lifted his drink to me in a toast, a sly grin on his face as he took a sip, never breaking eye contact? I should have felt humiliated, embarrassed even, given what was going on. Because the alpha showed no sign of wanting me, the billionaire was cool, calm, and self-possessed, enjoying his liquor as I pranced around nude, like I was nothing more than a show dog.

  But even if he was as cool as a cucumber, I couldn’t say the same for myself. I was completely taken aback, blown away by the dark man. I’m not sure what it was, I couldn’t even see the billionaire that clea
rly, only making out the hard line of his jaw, broad shoulders, dark hair and deep blue eyes. Oh right, and that indolent posture, the huge male form leaned back at ease, enjoying himself. That came across loud and clear.

  But suddenly, I wanted to show this man. I wanted to drive this man to the highest of heights, to make him lose his cool, to have him press the bid button furiously, terrified he would lose me to someone else. I wanted to make this man want me so bad he jumped out of his skin, lost his fortune, shed his defenses, all at the prospect of being with me, of owning me for a week. So I juiced up the show then, pulling out all my moves.

  It’s not that I’m a slut because actually, I have no real-life experience with men, not really. But I have watched some porn on my laptop, caught a few naughty stories on my Kindle, and heck, every girl has her imagination right? So I did everything I’d fantasized about, pulling out the stops, baring myself to this man, giving him everything.

  Not waiting for the voice to continue, I lifted both hands to my hair, trailing them through the brown curls, closing my eyes and letting out a moan like a female in heat. And slowly, oh so slowly, I rotated again, doing a three sixty while swinging my ass and squeezing my breasts, nipples bright red, stiff and achy with lust, still glistening with my saliva. But I needed to take this to the next level, this wasn’t Amateur Night. So shooting a saucy grin over my shoulder, I dipped my hand between my legs and lightly ran it over my pussy, scooping up the cream gathering at the base of my slit, and rubbed the fluid over my nips, making them glossy and shiny.

  Oh fuck yes, that was it. I moaned for real now, eyes fluttering closed as I smoothed the vaginal cream onto my breasts. It was so slick, so slippery, my creamy flesh glazed with pussy juice, my tips aching and rock hard, pointed straight at the man as electricity shot from my nips to my cunt, making me gush that much more.

  And invitingly, my hips wriggled again, the huge orbs bouncing and shaking, my thighs smeared with cream. Oh yeah, I was getting into it, I was putting on a show that rivaled the hottest strip tease, the hottest revue in Vegas. And sliding a finger down my back, I did something really naughty then. My index finger trailed lower, lower still, until it ran into my crack, slipped right between my two ass cheeks. No, I didn’t put it into my butt, but I definitely slid my finger in deep between the fleshy orbs, cushioning my hand, moaning softly, chin tilted to the sky, curls draped over my back as I sampled my back crack.