VirginsforSale.com

by Sky Corgan

  Silver fox, is the first thing that comes to mind. He's definitely older than me. His face betrays a sense of youth, but his hair is all salt and pepper. Dark chocolate is the color of his eyes. His face is set in a serious yet dominant expression. A thin layer of stubble over his jaw and above his upper lip gives him a ruggedly handsome look. Though I'm only given a headshot of him, I can see that he's wearing an expensive leather jacket over a maroon polo. He looks wealthy. He also looks...not real. Like the photo was staged. There's a pastel purple background behind him that suggests the picture was taken in a studio. Uneasiness churns in my stomach as I realize I was duped. There's no way this guy is real. Or that he would pay to be with me. A guy like this could easily sleep with scores of willing young supermodels for free.

  I stare at the screen until it darkens, then I sigh and rest the phone on my lap. Someone is fucking with me. That much is obvious.

  I touch a button on the phone to illuminate the screen again, then I stare at the photo for a good fifteen minutes before tapping through to the one phone number in the contacts list. There's not even a name assigned to it, which makes it that much more suspicious.

  I could send the photo to my email account and then do a Google image search with it tomorrow. What would that prove, though? I already know this guy is a fake. Anyone with two eyes and a brain could discern that much. Now I just need to decide if I'm going to play their game and text him or not.

  I think about the fifty thousand dollars, then I scoff at myself for being so stupid. Still, there's a part of me that's curious to know what these people really want. More than likely, they'll ask me to use the camera on the phone to take more nudes.

  “Sick fucks.” I roll my eyes, tossing the phone down on the sofa beside me. Moments later, the phone is in my hand again, and I'm angrily typing out a text message.

  What do you want me to do now?

  Prove me right, asshole. Ask me for more nudes, and I'll know this is nothing but a scam. I'll know I was a complete idiot to put so much time and energy into this.

  It takes a while before the phone buzzes to life with a response. All the while, my intestines feel like they're twisting into knots.

  Is this Althea?

  I want to be snarky, but I do my best to refrain. I'll save my sass for when the asshole on the other end boldly asks for more nudes.

  Yes.

  My first request may seem a little strange, but I will have the company that connected us make a good faith deposit of $1,000 into your account so that you'll know that this is legit.

  I feel like it's a chore to keep my eyes from rolling. Am I actually going to get paid for the nudes he's about to ask for?

  What's your request?

  What he sends me next makes my jaw drop open. It's exactly the opposite of what I had wanted when I signed up for this.

  I want you to get a job.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GAVIN

  Most men would have asked for nudes right off the bat, want to unwrap their virgin and claim her as soon as possible. But I'm not most men. I'm a hunter, and I believe that anticipation is one of the greatest pleasures left in life...especially when you're as rich as I am.

  I can have anything I want when I want it. The life of a successful defense attorney has given me that. I know I'm a bad man. I know I help some of the worst criminals in our nation walk free. But I'm only able to do that because I think differently from everyone else.

  So why should finding a bride be any different? I could have easily gone the traditional route. I could have dated and wooed and married. Lord knows, there are boatloads of women who would die to be with me. Maybe even kill to be with me. But I've had little interest in sex up until now. My life has been too consumed by my career. Self-gratification has kept me from wanting the drama of a relationship. Or perhaps the drama of a relationship has kept me from wanting a relationship.

  Compromising has never been one of my strengths. I don't want to have to play mind games and go out of my way to appease someone. So I've remained single for all my adult life. I haven't had a girlfriend since high school.

  Despite all this, I do feel the need for something more in my life, though I wasn't quite sure what until I came across that website.

  It was a day like any other day spent pouring over case files. I was unwinding with my dick in my hand, clicking through videos on the porn site. I can't even recall what I was watching when I saw the banner ad pop up at the bottom of the screen. The virgin part didn't interest me. I could go speak at a college and pop half a dozen cherries before the end of the weekend. What got my attention was, “Buy her once. Own her forever.”

  Against my better judgment to ignore the ad and just keep jacking off, I clicked on it. Typical busty models assaulted my eyes in the throes of passion. These girls weren't virgins. Any hot-blooded male would know that. They had the look of experience painted all over their faces. Scam immediately came to mind, but my curiosity kept me clicking through.

  The website promised the complete subservience of your bought girl, within reason. A pliable doll of flesh and lips and breasts and a warm wet untouched cunt with a hefty price tag. It sounded too good to be true. But if it wasn't half the pleasure for me would be shutting them down. I have the money to do it—the power—so why not take the risk. No one ever fucks over Gavin Errico.

  I contacted the website and paid their required fee to see my list of matches. What they sent back was the first sign that the website might actually be legit. The girls were not supermodels. The pictures of them weren't taken in a studio. Some of the images were blurry.

  I'm nothing if not a picky son of a bitch. Perhaps that's another reason why I've remained single for so long. I don't exactly have a type, but I know what I like when I see it. And none of those girls stood out to me. They were all the same, horny little virgins ready to drop to their knees for their new master. Several of them were touching themselves, making a seductive O face. One even had pigtails, which I was sure was supposed to appeal to the 'daddy' types. It just made me roll my eyes.

  Within a few weeks of the website sending me matches, I find myself jaded. This was a complete waste of time and a hefty deposit. I decide to open one last email from VirginsforSale.com before I contact their support and ask for a refund. I might want a dutiful wife, but I also want someone real. These girls all feel too generic, out of the box beauties who are likely just trying to make some easy money for college.

  Buried deep within the legal jargon of the website, I found the part that said the girls are allowed to fuck and run, take half of the money and disappear. None of it is really legal. But reading it made me even more skeptical and extra cautious, because I'm sure that same jargon they try to hide from their male customers to get them to hand over their money was provided front and center to the girls to encourage more sign-ups. I doubt that most of those girls are looking for more than a few nights in a stranger's bed and a purse full of cash. That alone should have made me ask for a refund.

  I sigh as I click on the link to open the email, expecting to see the typical busty blonde or lithe brunette making a seductive face at the camera, her perky tits on full display for my jerking pleasure. They all have that 'come fuck me' look I've become annoyed with. It still doesn't stop me from fantasizing about bending them over a desk and fucking them raw, their tight little pussies squeezing around me as I enter them for the first time. I wonder if they'd be able to hold that lustful expression or if they'd wince in pain. It's usually the latter of the two.

  But the girl displayed before me this time makes me jut my head back in confusion. I'm so used to seeing painted faces and pouting lips that these images seem out of place.

  This girl is absolutely stunning in a different kind of way. Effortless beauty, her hair is short but a bit wild. The large round-framed glasses she's wearing and lack of makeup give her an innocent look without even trying. Instead of her body being on full confident display in her nudes, she's rigid. Discomfort
tugs at her expression, something between apprehension and skepticism, like she's wondering if she's doing the right thing—wondering who will see these pictures after she sends them. There's thought behind her eyes, human emotion. I find myself wanting to know who she is and why she's doing this. I also find my cock rock hard just looking at her, something that has required at least a few casual strokes with all the other girls.

  And I know in that instant, that this is the one. This is the girl I must have. Even if she doesn't accept my contract, I'll find her. I'll seek her out and uncover her mystery. And then I'll spread her legs and claim what is mine. She is mine, whether she knows it or not.

  I send the email to VirginsforSale.com telling them I want her and then wait impatiently for their response. After fifteen minutes, I call their support. Thankfully, no one else has tried to claim her yet. I demand that the contract is sent to her immediately. About an hour later, they call me back and tell me she accepted. Part of me can't fucking believe it. Is this actually going to happen? Is she really mine?

  They mail me the stupid cheap cell phone that I'm to use to get in contact with her. It has a tracking app so that I'll know where she is at all times. I like that, being able to keep tabs on her. And now that we're locked into a contract together, there's no point in rushing things. It's time for the game of anticipation that I enjoy so much.

  I tell her to get a job somewhere in the public eye, not because I give a fuck about her working, but because I want to be able to watch her from afar. She bombards me with questions I have no intentions of answering. I want to be more of a mystery to her than she is to me. Instead of giving her answers, I give her money, small deposits into her account to show her that this is real. To that end, she decides to obey me. The second sign this might not be a scam. This better not be a fucking scam, or I'm going to be livid.

  I sit outside of her job in one of my lesser conspicuous vehicles and watch her walk through the doors. The app on my phone tracks her every movement.

  Seeing her in person makes a tightness pull at my chest. When I read that she was only 5'2, I smirked at the thought of towering over her. Now, seeing how tiny she is, how easy she would be to dominate, my cock is straining in my slacks. I undress her with my eyes, thinking of all the horribly filthy things I'd like to do to her—that I'm going to do to her. In none of her pictures did she wear an expression of pleasure, but I'll see it on her face eventually. I'll fist my hand into her hair and pull her head back while I'm ramming into her.

  “Fuck.” I drag my tongue across my bottom lip, wringing my hands around the steering wheel as she disappears inside the restaurant. I'm getting way too worked up, and I haven't even heard her voice yet. The one time she called me, I rejected it. I want every part of her in small bits and pieces, like chipping away at the dirt to reach the rare diamond inside.

  How long will I be able to handle this before I must claim her?

  The answer is...not very fucking long.

  I spend nearly a week watching her walk inside that building in shorts that are way too fucking short. The curves of her hips and ass torture me. I'm convinced that the shorts are two sizes too small for her. They're so tight that I swear I can see the material contouring to her folds. All I can think about is ripping those damnable shorts off of her, parting her thighs, and tasting her honey, then burying myself to the hilt inside of her.

  When I get home from work at the end of the day, it's not the porn sites I turn to anymore. I find myself stroking off to the pictures of her that I've looked at so many times that I'm certain I've memorized every inch of her pure naked flesh. My fingers itch to touch her. My cock throbs to bust through her virgin barrier. I want to know what she smells like, to feel how soft her ashen brown hair is. I want to take off her glasses and gaze into her eyes as her mouth contorts into an O that's only for me.

  I see her in my dreams, imagine what her voice sounds like. The longer I watch her, the more insane I go with lust. Until I can't take it anymore. Until I have to have her.

  Barely a week goes by before I find myself sitting outside of her job waiting for her to get off from work. I'm done playing coy. My lesser pretentious toys are parked in the garage. Tonight, I had my driver bring me.

  No doubt, this place has never seen a limo in its parking lot. The restaurant has been closed for about thirty minutes already, and I can see the employees staring at the limo through the glass, my innocent little kitten included. She has no idea that it's me inside. I didn't text her to let her know I was coming.

  When she finally leaves the building, gazing upon the limo with a mixed look of curiosity and unease, I have my driver flag her over. She glances behind herself to make sure he's not talking to someone else, then points at her chest for good measure. I grin at her naivety, wiping the smirk off my face while she approaches the vehicle.

  She stops dead in her tracks as I open the door, her hand flying up to cover her heart as if she didn't expect someone to be inside. My eyes rove from the top of her head to the tips of her toes before settling on her face. Her adorable little mouth is open in surprise. No doubt, she recognizes who I am now.

  “Get in,” I tell her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALTHEA

  Holy fucking hell. Is this really happening? This guy is real? After nearly a month since receiving the cell phone and note, I had convinced myself that I was playing into some lengthy prank. The types of text messages shared between us were so short and vague that they could have been produced by an autoresponder service. Half the time, he didn't even reply.

  Still, that initial text message motivated me to get a job. Prank or not, I'd dawdled around long enough, leeching off of my mother. It was high time that I started earning my keep, even if it made me miserable.

  After I confirmed that I had gotten a job, I stopped texting my new owner. He didn't seem much interested in me anyway, and to be honest, I was over the whole VirginsforSale.com thing. They keep sending me emails telling me that my new owner has released money into my account, but the website says they won't pay me until thirty days have passed, so there's no real way to tell if it's legit or not.

  But now here we are, face-to-face for the first time. When I saw the limo waiting in the parking lot, I was certain it was for someone else, or it was just waiting there until the driver got a call from a client. I never in a million years thought it was for me.

  The man inside is way more handsome than his picture. For several seconds, I think that I must be mistaken, but then he holds up his phone and shows me the same headshot of him against a purple background that I was sent. It's definitely the same guy.

  “Get in,” he says in a voice that's nothing like I had imagined. Deep and masculine, yet with a soft edge.

  “Get in,” I parrot stupidly, gawking at him like he's a celebrity.

  He moves over, urging me inside.

  I shake my head, trying to make sense of everything. “I don't even know your name—who you are.”

  He gives me a disapproving look. “Don't make me repeat myself.”

  Alarms go off inside my brain. Handsome or not, only an idiot would get inside a vehicle with a stranger and travel to an unknown destination.

  “That's not safe,” I mumble, hugging myself.

  “You signed a contract,” he reminds me firmly. “I came to collect what is mine.”

  The way he says what is mine makes a shiver roll through my body and settle at my core. What is his? Does he mean me or my virginity?

  My mind goes blank as I stare at him and feel my common sense slowly drain away. His dark eyes are full of confidence and hunger, but his jaw is set in disapproval. I'm pissing him off. No doubt, this isn't what he signed up for. I'm not being the compliant doll that he paid for.

  He paid for me. He owns me, I remind myself. It's a staggering thought. If he's here right now, does that mean that everything was real?

  I bite my bottom lip before speaking again. His eyes instantly fall to my mouth. “I
f I get into that limo with you, what will happen?”

  “I'm going to fuck you like we agreed upon,” he replies unabashedly.

  My knees feel weak. Again that swirl of desire kicks up in my loins. No one has ever talked to me like this before.

  “We don't have all night.” He steps out of the limo, and my head tilts back to look up at his face.

  Tall. So tall compared to me.

  He grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards the limo. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm being abducted.

  “Hey, let go of me.” I start to struggle, but he's way too strong. Within seconds, I'm inside the limo. The door is closed behind us, and I feel the vehicle lurch forward.

  What desire I felt is replaced by panic. What in the hell is going on? This isn't what I imagined it was going to be like at all. I was supposed to have more power than this—supposed to be able to refuse. Maybe this was a trap after all. Who knows what's going to happen to me now? A million horrible thoughts rush through my mind.

  “You can't do this!” I try to go for the door. I'm so damn desperate I'd jump out of the moving vehicle to escape. My hand reaches the handle, but my fingers slide off of it as my captor wraps his arms around me and pulls me back with him onto the seat. “Let me go!”

  “Shhh,” he whispers into my ear. “It's alright.”

  “It's not alright. You're kidnapping me. Where are you taking me?” I demand, trying to twist around in his arms. His grip is like iron, though.

  “I bought you. I own you now. You belong to me.” His voice is full of need as he whispers aggressively into my ear.

  My body stills as I feel something shift beneath my ass. My clit pulses from the sensation. I stop struggling. My heart is beating out of control, echoing in my ear from adrenaline.

  “If you're a good girl, I'll let you go. Or maybe I won't.” His grip tightens on me. That's definitely his erection poking my ass.