Virgin for Sale

by Cassandra Dee

  The woman squealed softly, gripping her heels, boobs swaying pendulously as her vag was invaded. It must have felt good from the way her thighs trembled, the way her mouth opened in ecstasy, eyes falling shut, penetrated by the cigar of a dominant alpha male.

  But he wasn’t done yet. This guy was a motherfucker and then some because he began fucking her with it, pulling the cigar and out, letting it slide wetly into her pussy repeatedly, drilling her deep. But instead of giving it his full attention, instead of watching this luscious creamy girl take his tool, instead he leaned back and kept on talking to his friend like it was no big deal to be pounding a girl with one hand while having a business conversation on the other. The two men kept speaking like they were at a restaurant, nonchalant and casual, while a beautiful woman got fucked not two feet away.

  I turned back to the bar, brows raised. The Club is a depraved place, absolutely, it’s where male billionaires get their rocks off, do whatever the fuck they want within its four walls. And yeah, what we do with women is so fucking dirty, so fucking nasty, that you’d think it couldn’t possibly exist, it’s out of some sick asshole’s dream. But it does exist because we pay top dollar, and the females come willingly for that.

  But hell, I needed to pass some time before picking up my chickadee, and right now, no woman could fill the void. I wanted Article Thirty and only she would do. I wanted to spurt into those hot depths, to feel her cream and whine beneath me, breaking that hymen once and for all. Oh yeah, after her little tease, after her dirty dancing, Article Thirty was getting it in her pussy, in her behind, fucking everywhere, and she deserved every second of my loving … because she was mine now.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Annie

  Unbelievably, there was more prep after the auction.

  “But I’ve already been sold,” I protested feebly as a bath was drawn, the hot water gushing into the porcelain tub. “I don’t get it, why do I need to bathe again?”

  Jane shot me an inscrutable look.

  “You’re clean, of course, but you’re not fresh. Most girls who’ve been through auction are a tiny bit dirty from your own fluids,” she paused, “and they need to wind down too, relax a little.”

  I hmmphed a little, but Jane had a point. True, I hadn’t rolled in the dirt, hadn’t been running or working out, but I had lain on the ground to show the billionaires my twat, coming hard, a sheen of sweat decorating my skin, and my limbs were slightly sticky now from the exertion. Plus, my inner thighs were a mess, caked, still a little glossy with the remnants of my lust. Jane was right. I was hardly clean now.

  But it’d been worth it because I’d been bought by the dark man. Whoever he was, I needed him desperately, we’d driven each other over the edge through our electric eye contact, a sensuous that went beyond between our bodies despite the glass pane. And I’d gone for gold, doing everything in my power, buttfucking myself with my shoe for crying out loud because that’s what he wanted to see. My ass still sizzled a little from the fucking, it’d been so wrong, so dirty, so absolutely disgusting, and yet I loved every second of it.

  And something told me he’d picked out that shoe. Something in that dark gaze told me that this was an alpha who appreciated women, who adored the female form. I suspected that the dark man had been involved in selecting the capes and designer heels, molding the sky high stilettos in his big hands, visualizing what a girl could do with them, how she’d look. And his work had come true. I’d gone nuclear, rubbing myself with that sensuous item, even putting it in my back end, tantalizingly, teasing him.

  So body growing hot once more, I sank into the bubbles, mind whirring. What would happen tonight? Oh god, I hoped it was him, I hoped that the dark man was Bidder Five, that I’d have an incredible night to remember, a night of release, my virginity taken in one fell swoop, my hymen punched through by this god among men, his huge form owning me, dominating my soft, small frame.

  But after the pampering was over, I was dressed once again in the cape and led through miles after miles of tunnel. I didn’t get it. Why wasn’t I wearing some sexy lingerie, or at least a satiny bath robe? Why was I dressed in the same get-up?

  “Um, excuse me,” I whispered to one of the handlers. “But I already went up for auction tonight. Shouldn’t we be meeting my buyer?” Instead of walking through miles of tunnel, I should have been situated on a big, round bed, ready to fuck in a lavish setting, swags of silk curtains, music playing in the background.

  But the handler ignored me, and we kept walking. Although I don’t have a good sense of direction, it seemed were going back to the auction chamber, my feet told me that we’d journeyed for miles and my ankles began to ache. Damnit, these silver heels weren’t very comfortable. And sure enough, after about twenty minutes, we stood before a featureless door in the wall once more. I shivered in anticipation. We could have been anywhere frankly. Given the events of the night, maybe I was wrong, maybe the door would whisk open and there’d be a party inside, filled with guests dressed to the nines, women in cocktail dresses, men in tuxes. Or maybe it was the great outdoors, I’d see the beauty of the Nevada night sky, the moon hanging like a heavy orange globe, stark and glowing in the desert setting.

  But no, when the door opened, it was the auction chamber again. My suspicions had been accurate and we were right back where we’d started.

  “Um, I think there’s been a mistake,” I tried again, voice firmer this time. “I’ve already been auctioned, you have me mixed up with another girl.”

  But the handler merely took my elbow and gently but firmly, pushed me into the chamber, the door hissing shut behind me. I stumbled a little, almost tripping on the blue cloak just like the first time, but caught myself, gasping, stumbling a bit.

  And then that I saw him. Huge, massive, blue eyes gleaming, the dark man seized my gaze from across the room, and all thought of this being the wrong place, being the wrong girl, flew out of my mind.

  “Anna,” a deep voice rumbled. “Welcome.”

  Oh my god, it was Bidder Five. He was here, in this small space lined with windows, this time the lights above dark, each booth shuttered and cold.

  “Hi,” I stammered unsteadily, a small hand pressed against the wall to keep me stable. “Nice to meet you.”

  Nice to meet you? That’s all I could manage? I cursed myself, I’d just done the Dance of Seven Veils, acted like a whore, and yet now, I was tongue-tied and clumsy in the presence of this man. So I straightened and smiled bravely.

  “Hi, I’m Anna,” I said in a clearer voice. “Nice to meet you.”

  Inside, I was shaking my head ruefully. Why didn’t I have better words? Something seductive and coy, sweet nothings that would make a man’s head spin. But instead, I was still the same Anna, direct, forthright, speaking plain English as always.

  And the blue eyes gleamed.

  “I think we’ve met,” that deep voice said smoothly. “Indirectly at least. Let me introduce myself, I’m Andrew Fire.”

  I colored. What a sexy name. Okay, I was biased, but to have “Fire” as a last name? That was hot, it totally suited him, the icy blue gaze so cold it burned, the heat I emanating from his big form from across the room.

  “Hi,” I said again, biting my lip. Right, smooth, I needed to be smooth. “So, um, I’m happy to be here and it’s nice to meet you. Should we proceed to the next step? Should we find a private room somewhere, where it’s comfortable?”

  I mumbled, embarrassed despite my efforts to be sophisticated and jaded. Our circumstances were so unique, what was I supposed to do, make small talk about the weather? But I had to do better than this, so I cleared my throat throatily and leaned against the chamber wall, hoping my curves looked seductive.

  “Hi, I’m Anna,” I tried again. “Should we find somewhere comfortable big boy? Somewhere where we can have fun?” There, that came out better, more like a Jezebel and less like Raggedy Ann.

  But the big man’s eyes merely gleamed once more, if he noticed my chan
ge in tone, he didn’t mention it. His brows merely lifted and said, “What’s wrong with the bed in here?” that deep voice intoned.

  And I gasped because holy shit, there was a big, round bed right in the middle of the chamber where the dais had been. I hadn’t noticed it earlier because I’d been so captivated by the alpha male that it’d completely slipped my gaze, my mind unable to process anything but the man before me.

  “Oh right,” I said in a small whisper. “There is a bed here. Where did it come from?”

  And Mr. Fire’s brows arched then.

  “I had it brought in,” he said smoothly. “The better to fuck you on.”

  Oh my god, heat burned in my cheeks at the dirty words. But this is what I’d signed up for, this is what I was here to do, my primary objective. So I nodded wordlessly.

  “Sure, okay,” I said, climbing up onto the bed, the mattress firm, the sheets whispers of white silk. But this was just so weird so I turned back to him, my expression inquisitive. “But Mr. Fire, were there no private rooms available? Surely in a place as huge as this, there must be something a little more comfortable,” I said, gesturing to the black walls, the windows that peered at us like eyes. “Don’t you have a room or something?”

  Mr. Fire was silent for a moment, just taking me in before he spoke.

  “First, little girl, you don’t question what I say,” he began silkily, his big form unmoving on the other side of the room, like a predator filled with unleashed energy. “If I say here, then it’ll be here.”

  My cheeks flushed again.

  “Oh of course,” I began hastily, “I didn’t mean that this was bad, or I didn’t like it …”

  A sharp hand gesture cut me off.

  “And second,” he continued smoothly, “You don’t cut me off. Little girls don’t cut off their daddies, they wait until Daddy is finished speaking. Isn’t that right?”

  My heart raced, pounding like a drumbeat, but I nodded silently. The words “little girl” and “Daddy” were weird, but I was in no position to question him. So I sat obediently on the big mattress, all ears, breasts quivering with anticipation.

  “Good, I’m glad we have that clear,” he said smoothly like nothing had happened. “Because I am gonna fuck you baby. And I’m gonna fuck you right here, in front of my brothers,” he said, switching on the lights so that the bed was like a movie set, lit from all angles.

  I gasped. Holy shit, there were men behind those panes now? There were men watching us, expecting to get a good eyeful? I shivered unexpectedly, looking around, slightly fearful. It was different. Before, I’d known I was being watched, prepared for the eyes, the speculating looks. But to be surprised like this took my breath away and I was like a deer frozen in headlights, unsure where to look next. But Mr. Fire continued, unperturbed.

  “We do this sometimes,” he said casually, like public sex was no big deal. “After an auction’s over for a night, sometimes we fuck a couple girls for fun, letting others watch. Puts a little pizzazz in things, makes for good marketing material in case you want to be sold again.”

  I sat, breathing hard, still as a rock, my form chill and cold despite the fact that the lights were hot. Maria had said something about this, alluded to it briefly although I hadn’t been paying close attention, too caught up in the main event.

  “A lot of girls enjoy the experience,” she said as an afterthought, “A lot ask to be auctioned not once, but two or three times.”

  I’d pursed my lips, looking at her.

  “Really?” I asked doubtfully. “Didn’t they make enough the first time around?” With a ten thousand dollar floor, you could live for months, if not years on that sum alone.

  But Maria let out a throaty laugh then.

  “No, it’s not the money honey,” she chided gently. “It’s the experience. They love the pampering, they love the experience, and most of all, they love the men,” she said with a shrug. “The Club makes sure that it’s good for you too, that the girls are treated well,” she said vaguely. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

  I shook my head. With ten thousand big ones, I was beating feet immediately, I was gonna use that money to pay bills, our mortgage, the water, the electricity. My family was in a crisis and I didn’t have the luxury of sitting around dawdling, taking my time. So I merely shook my head, not sure what to say. Besides, it sounded bad, selling yourself again and again, like only trashy whores would do that, women who opened their bodies again and again for a price, welcoming in men who could pay.

  And I didn’t want to be that. On the one hand, I realized that my mind was a mass of contradictions. I didn’t want to be a whore, not even a high-priced one, it was rude and dirty, bringing up visions of street hookers, their make-up garish, hair ratty and messy, wearing torn fishnets. But on the other, I knew that that was me. Maybe a spiffed up version, maybe one who was sold for millions instead of fifty bucks on the street, but I was absolutely that girl, just the high end edition, the one that offered herself to billionaires, and not chumps.

  So I bit my lip. My resolve to keep this a one-time act was set, I couldn’t bear the thought of selling myself again, doing the deed for another man, because the price was bound to be lower. Without the virgin premium, I’d be used goods, and that thought alone made chills run down my back. But even more, if I kept this to a one-time thing, it’d just be an aberration. It was like going up on stage once. It didn’t make you an actress, didn’t make you a movie star, you were just a hobbyist, someone testing the waters. Whereas if you went on stage again and again, you become a full-fledged starlet, someone who wanted to be there, who was looking for the lifestyle. And I didn’t want to be that girl.

  So I turned back to Mr. Fire. I didn’t want to be that girl. I didn’t want to be here, performing in front of his friends although I’d just done exactly that during the auction. Somehow, this time it was different. I’d planned the auction, I’d signed up for that. But I hadn’t bet on this.

  So I looked at him squarely, my face tense, not letting my gaze drift from those blue eyes. I’d thought he was my savior, my everything, but this was no fantasy. This was no dream. I was about to have my virginity taken as a dozen men watched, faceless, nameless, behind those windowed panes.

  “I’m ready,” I said tightly, my eyes still fixed on him, like I was having a staring contest. “I’m ready.”

  And Mr. Fire merely chuckled, not moving an inch from where he stood.

  “You sure?” he said mildly, eyebrows quirked. “Because you don’t look ready with the way you’re grabbing that sheet.”

  And I glanced downwards, immediately letting go of the silk coverlet. Because I’d been twisting the material between my fingers like it was a stress ball, the fabric wound so tight that deep crinkles remained even after I’d let go, testament to my deep reluctance.

  “Sorry,” I stammered. “I’m ready, didn’t mean to give the wrong impression.”

  The big man just looked at me from across the room, his eyes taking in everything. I did my best to mask my nervousness, tried to smile, threw my hair back behind my shoulder flirtatiously, did a little half shimmy so my breasts bounced.

  “I’m ready,” I murmured again, my voice throaty with what I hoped sounded like arousal.

  But Mr. Fire was a pro with women and wasn’t fooled for an instant.

  “Naw honey, you’re not ready at all,” he continued, brows quirked. “A gust of wind would blow you over right now, you’re shivering like a leaf.”

  And immediately I clenched my jaw and made my shoulders go still. I had been trembling, it was nerves more than anything, and I made myself stay rock still even though my belly quivered beneath the cloak.

  But it wasn’t enough. I needed to prove that I was willing, that I wanted to perform, he’d paid me for this after all. So taking a deep breath, I pulled one side of the cloak down, baring one shoulder sensuously before letting the velvet material drop to reveal a big breast.

  “I’m ready Mr. Fire,
” I purred this time, cupping the white flesh, my nipple pointed straight at him. “I want you,” I breathed, stroking myself softly. And slowly, the other half of the cape fell so that I sat in a pool of midnight blue, torso visible, creamy breasts out, luscious, gorgeous, as I teased the pink nipples. “Please,” I cooed again.

  Immediately, the big man’s eyes lit, sparking from within. His breathing grew slightly ragged, that big form shifting ever so slightly, moving so that he was on the balls of his feet, a male animal getting ready to pounce, to own. But then the dark man forced himself to relax, leaning back, his mental muscle flexing, brain overriding the urge to get up on the bed with me and take what I was offering.

  “Naw little girl,” he drawled again. “No need to put on an act for me. You’ve got it in you but I want it to be natural. I don’t need women scared, my girls are willing and hot, they beg me for it.”

  And slowly, I let my hands drop, sitting mutely in the pool of blue velvet. What was I supposed to do? I looked at him, brown eyes beseeching, begging him already. My efforts at being a vixen had failed, I was failing even now, oh god, I was a failure. I wasn’t the girl he thought I was, I wasn’t the slut-cum-whore he’d seen on stage. I was just Annie James from New Jersey, small-town girl, caught up in something that went way over my head, drowning slowly in the mud. So with slow hands, I pulled the cloak over my shoulders once more, covering myself.

  “What should I do?” I asked in a low voice. “I-I’m not sure what comes next.”

  And the big man chuckled deeply.

  “Why don’t you be yourself Annie? Tell me something about yourself,” he rumbled.

  I took a deep breath. This was not what I expected at all. I expected to be ravished, to swoon backwards, to service a man, feel him deep in me, not to have conversation while I sat on a big bed, his friends looking on. But there was only one thing to do, and that was obey. So I started slowly.