by Lacy Dae
The towel I'd gone to bed with was on the floor, and I snatched it up, wrapping it around myself with trembling hands. My thoughts were a jumbled mess and I babbled off the first thing that came to mind. "I need clothes." As the bright light glinted off the metal shackles circling my wrists, I added. "And that key."
Miles sat up slowly, the covers falling to his waist. A handsome man in his late thirties, he was trim and fit, his thick dark hair just starting to silver at the temples. I looked away, ashamed at the surge of lust that flickered though me. An awkward silence built, as he frowned thoughtfully at me and I avoided his eyes, staring at the bedspread instead.
"Why?" His deep voice was oddly gentle. But his question baffled me. Was he joking? Taken aback, I met his eyes, searching for some hint of amusement. He seemed serious. He swung his feet off the bed and stood, totally naked and completely unbothered by it. I looked away, blushing hotly.
"So I can go home?" My voice quavered with unshed tears. In the broad light of day, our encounter the previous night was revealed as the shameful, cheap transaction it really was. I'd prostituted myself to this man, exchanging my very first sexual encounter for cold hard cash. Self-disgust flooded through me, leaving me feeling nauseous and dirty. Wrapping my arms around myself, I turned my back to the bed. He was a genius, a self-made man, respected around the world for his intellect and business sense, and I was a whore. I wanted to run and hide.
I jerked with surprise as his arms wrapped around me in a comforting hug. "Darling. You know you can't leave yet." Dumbfounded, I turned in his arms to stare at him. He smiled and tapped my nose. "You're still a virgin."
I pulled back, mouth open. "What? No, we had sex." He tightened his grip on me, trying to cuddle me in close, but I resisted, glaring at him. "We did have sex! Last night! Right there!" I gestured widely at the bed, as those I needed to provide proof. As though he had just forgotten!
He sighed and met my eyes, his expression practically dripping sympathy for my lack of understanding. I scowled back, and he shook his head at me. "Alright, yes, we did have sex." I opened my mouth and he raised a finger. "But you are still a virgin! Your hymen is intact."
"My..? But-but.." I sputtered and he hushed me, one finger across my lips.
"The contract was very specific, darling. As long as your hymen is intact, you belong to your buyer." Utterly dismayed, I stared at him. Was that what it had said? I had skimmed over the sex part, not wanting to think too much about what I was agreeing too, and mostly focused on the safety precautions. He smiled at me, smugly pleased, and I wanted to hit him. Perhaps sensing my anger, he released me and stepped back quickly.
"Go take a shower. I'll arrange for some clothes and we'll have breakfast." He raised a gentle hand to my face, a tender brush that made me tremble. "It will be alright, darling."
Grabbing a sheet and wrapping it around himself, he headed for the door. I stood frozen in place, torn between my need to escape and a deep yearning to spend more time with this puzzling, changeable man. Just before he reached the door, I found my voice again.
"Why did you buy yourself a virgin?" He surely didn't need to pay for sex!
He paused, keeping his back to me, then turned and smiled. "I didn't, darling. You were a gift." His smile faltered and he looked troubled, meeting my eyes searchingly. "From my ex-wife."
We stared at each other for a long moment, before he turned and left the room without another word.
Sold to the Billionaire
The hot water stung my poor bruised ass, but I didn't care. I scrubbed myself viciously, as though the sweetly-scented bubbles could erase my shame and fear. But the metal bands still circling my wrists and ankles were physical proof of the trap I was caught in. Oh God , what do I do now?
Out of desperation, I had sold myself, agreeing to trade cold hard cash for my virginity. The virgin auction had been a frightening experience, a blur of bright lights and harsh sounds, but nowhere near as terrifying as what had come afterwards. Hooded and chained, I'd been driven to a mansion and shoved into a dimly lit bedroom. He'd been waiting for me there, a dark-eyed stranger. My buyer. My owner.
I'd never known anyone like him. He'd been both tender and cruel, shifting easily between teasingly sweet kisses and painful punishments. He'd taken perverse pleasure in 'correcting' me, and my ass still ached from the spanking I'd received. To my shocked surprise, though, submitting to his wicked desires had aroused me. Just the memory of his firm blows on my ass made me squirm, my pussy throbbing in renewed lust.
I'd expected him to fuck me that night, to claim his purchased virginity, and he had. To my surprise, he'd sank his hard cock deep into my ass instead of my pussy. The pain-edged pleasure of his sinful penetration had given me my very first orgasm, even as he spilled his seed deep inside my clenching body. I slept in his arms afterwards, exhausted by passion, but in the harsh light of morning the hot lust shifted to soul-searing shame. Our depraved bargain had been fulfilled and so I asked to leave, desperate to escape the overwhelming emotions tearing me apart.
He had refused to let me go. We'd argued, but he'd taken advantage of a contractual loophole. Until my hymen was broken, I was technically still a virgin. I paused, slowing my frantic scrubbing, as I recalled the moment I had finally recognized my buyer. Miles Sinclaire. A reclusive billionaire, he hadn't been seen much in public since his brutal divorce. Not a man you'd think would need to pay for sex. And apparently, he hadn't. I'd been a gift from his ex-wife. That can't be good.
I jerked, startled from my tangled thoughts, as the bathroom door opened. Footsteps approached, and then the shower curtain was thrust aside. I squeaked and clutched myself as cold air swept in around my wet form. Miles stood there, his dark hair streaked with silver, rugged crows-feet bracketing his cold eyes. The playful warmth he'd shown at our last meeting seemed to have evaporated, and he scowled down at me.
"Sophia. Get out and get dressed."
Avoiding his gaze, I nodded and began to ease my way across the shower, keeping my back to the wall. He snorted and stood back, crossing his arms as his eyes swept down my naked body, a faint sneer twisting his lips. I blushed hotly, and slid my hands down to cover my breasts and mound.
"Stop. Remove your hands." The barked command stung, and I inhaled sharply, before grudgingly lowering my hands. My sullen glare didn't seem to faze him. "You didn't shave!" He was apparently affronted by this brazen rudeness.
Confused, I stammered. "Wh-what? I shaved my legs!"
Silently, he pointed at the juncture of my thighs. Reflexively, I looked down, past my tits and flat belly, but I already knew what he seeing. My pubic hair had been tidily trimmed into a short soft bush. I flushed and looked away, embarrassed to be discussing something so intimate with this near-stranger, even after the sordid events of the previous night. "I... um... I don't shave down there. Not all the way, anyways, I just do the bikini line." His frown deepened, but I went on, suddenly irritated by his unspoken criticism. "Look, it's my pussy, and I don't have to shave it if I don't want to!"
He reared back at this bit of defiance, and a tense silence fell between us. I held my breath and met his eyes, lifting my chin. A familiar hot gleam had replaced the icy chill in their chocolate depths. As the pause lengthened and nothing happened, I took a breath and dropped my gaze. Watching my footing on the slick tiles, I stepped out the tub and reached for the plush towels. He was so close that I could feel his warmth on my chilled skin, but I carefully avoided touching him.
As soon as my feet were flat on the floor, he lunged. I yelped as his hard hands fell onto on my damp shoulders, shoving my back against the wall. He leaned into me, pinning me into place with his weight, until his lips brushed my throat. The silky fabric of his shirt slid against my bare breasts, and I shivered as my nipples hardened reflexively. My hands came up to grip his biceps, weakly pushing him away even as hot pulses surged through my traitorous pussy.
Ignoring my feeble struggles, he whispered in my ear. "Your pussy b
elongs to me, actually." He pulled back a bit, his fingers tightening painfully on my shoulders. His knee slid between my legs, pressing upwards and lifting me onto my toes. I whimpered as the rough material of his slacks ground against the tender folds of my bare twat. He dropped a hand between our bodies, his fingers yanking painfully on my pubic hair. "I'm going to shave your cunt smooth. Are you going to stop me?" With a quick jerk, he plucked a few hairs from my mound, the sharp pain making my eyes water. Gasping, I shook my head. "Use your words, darling." Another jerk, and I yelped from the sting.
"N-no, I won't stop you. You can shave my pussy." His eyebrows lowered ominously, and I babbled on. "I mean, will you please shave my pussy? Sir?"
A slow smile crossed his face. He lifted the hand that had hurt me, brushing gentle fingers against my cheek and chin to wipe away the spilled tears. I trembled, once more torn between an overwhelming desire for his tender touch, and fear of his cruelty. He soothed me, lowering me back down onto my feet and running warm hands down my arms. "Very good, darling." I smiled back, tentatively. "Now, make yourself a nice spot on the floor and lie down."
He released me, and turned away. With shaking hands, I pulled the soft towels from the rack and spread them onto the floor, avoiding my damp footsteps. I watched out of the corner of my eyes as Miles pulled open a few drawers, clearly searching for something. He turned and gave me a pointed look, and I quickly laid down on the floor, flat on my back with my knees pressed tightly together.
A few moments passed as I stared at the ceiling, periodic shudders rippling through me from cold and nerves. I could hear drawers opening and closed, and then a pleased sigh. Approaching footsteps warned me, and I trembled as his hand closed on my knee. Miles knelt beside me, shaking his head ruefully. "You need to open your legs, darling."
With a quavering sigh, I did so. He moved to kneel between my legs and ran his warm hands up my thighs, pressing them wider and rubbing his thumbs in the sensitive hollows at the top. I felt totally vulnerable, my most secret area spread open and exposed to his gaze. Despite myself, I could feel my pussy swelling as his gentle fingers spread my labia, exploring every crease and fold. I closed my eyes, blushing hard, caught between arousal and embarrassment.
He talked quietly as his fingers drifted across me. "You have a lovely pussy, darling. So pink and soft. But this hair will just get in the way." He leaned back and I heard a soft whoosh, and then the cool touch of shaving cream against my skin. He spread it in thick circles on my mound and outer labia, the soft foam tickling my clit. He wiped his hands on my towel, and then leaned over to pick something up. I gasped as cold metal touched me, just below my belly button. "Open your eyes."
I did, blinking and peering down my belly. A silver gleam caught my eyes, and I stared, horrified, at the old-fashioned straight razor he held in his hand, resting on my belly. Light gleamed from its honed edge, scalpel-sharp. The long blade was pointed upwards, thankfully, as I couldn't stop a full-body shudder of dread. Miles gave me a stern look. "You'll need to hold very still, darling. I wouldn't want to cut you." Aghast, I met his eyes. Surely he wasn't serious? He was. I fisted my fingers in the towel underneath me and dropped my head with a thud, my stomach churning with fear.
With a firm hand on my belly commanding stillness, he began to shave me. He started on my mound, a few inches above my clit, with short strokes of the blade against my trembling skin. After each rasping pull, he rinsed the razor in a bowl of water, and then wiped it on the towel before returning to his dangerous task. I bit my lip, fists tightening, as he approached the top of my cleft, delicately tracing the plump flesh with the honed edge of the razor.
As he worked his way down my pussy, he moved his free hand to pull on my folds, flattening and tightening my skin for each pass of the razor. The rhythmic touches on my clit and labia sent shocks of pleasure through me, to mix with the raw dread of the blade into a complex storm of emotions. I could feel my pussy heat and moisten in response, my juices trickling down my folds. Noticing my helpless arousal, he teased me, pinching and rubbing my clit even as the razor continued its dangerous voyage down my pussy.
"You like this, don't you." He murmured, and my breath caught as he slid the razor across my inner labia, brushing the dewy flesh with the threatening metal. He had finished once side of my labia, and shifted to the other, spreading and flattening my folds in the opposite direction. As he tugged and arranged my pussy, he slid his fingers teasingly against my clit and then further down, probing the entrance to my body with a finger-tip. Each sweet caress only emphasized the rasping passage of the razor, and I quivered, desperately trying to hold still, in terror of its edge against my most vulnerable flesh.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of this erotic torture, he sat up, dropping the razor into the bowl with a satisfied sigh. He wiped my pussy with a damp washcloth, oddly slick against my shorn skin. As he finished, I gasped in a relieved breath and tried to close my legs. A sharp slap against my twat shocked me, and I froze. "Let a man inspect his work, darling!"
Hard hands shoved my thighs apart, and he leaned in close, his hot breath brushing my swollen pussy. I moaned as his tongue slid down my cleft, slick against my smoothed skin. My twat throbbed as the wet heat of his mouth settled over my clit, flicking the sensitive nub until I cried out, raising my hips against him. He slid his hand up my thigh, once more probing my virgin entrance, in rhythm with the clever motions of his tongue against my clit. Panting, I reached down and sank my hands in his hair, grinding his face against my aching pussy.
He took the hint, picking up the pace and driving his finger deeper into my clenching pussy. The erotic sensations pooled in my belly, a twisting knot of pleasurable tension that made me moan. Then his reaching finger found some undiscovered spot deep inside my body, and I froze, straining and gasping. The coiled tension in my core built and built, until with one last hard thrust of his finger it shattered. I cried out as shards of hot pleasure ricocheting through me, making me jerk and quiver, my pussy tightening around his finger with each surge of sensation. As the waves subsided, I went limp, gasping for breath on the hard tiled floor, filled with tingling warmth.
Miles sat beside me, smoothing back the drying tangles in my hair as I panted and trembled on the floor. Recovering, I couldn't help but notice his hard cock, outlined under the damp slacks he still wore. I reached for him, wanting to feel its firm length in my hands, but he blocked the motion and rose to his feet. "Umm... don't you want me to...?" I let the words drift off, not really sure what I was offering him. A pained smile crossed his face, and he shook his head.
"Later, darling, but thanks for the thought." He held out a hand, and when I took it, pulled me easily to my feet. He lifted my chin and dropped a quick kiss across my lips. "Don't worry, there's still a lot I intend to teach you."
Basking in his approval, my brain loose and fuzzy with the after-glow, I couldn't help blurting out the question that had been bothering me all morning. "Why would your ex-wife buy you a virgin?" I regretted it the moment the words slipped out. The growing warmth between us vanished in an instant, like a cloud passing before the sun, and he stepped back. I started to stammer an apology, but he raised a hand, stopping me cold.
"I guess that's a fair question, considering that you're a part of this ugly business now." He shrugged broad shoulders, and then sighed. "There's a critical board meeting later this week, and I still have a significant portion of the voting stock in my... her company. Perhaps she's trying to buy my support?" He looked down, scowling at the floor. "Either that or... well, during one of our fights, she informed me that the only way any woman would want to play my 'sick games' is if she didn't know any better. So you may be a particularly cruel taunt."
Despite his casual tone, a thread of genuine hurt wound through his explanation. I stepped forward, desperate to ease the pain my unthinking question had given him. Wrapping my arms around him, I buried my face against his shirt, and after a startled hesitation, his arms came
up too. The warm embrace didn't last though, as my stomach gurgled loudly, breaking the moment. I flushed, embarrassed but he laughed, tightening his arms briefly before gently pushing me back.
"Are you hungry? Let's get something to eat. Perhaps you'd like to get dressed, although I love seeing you au naturale." I blushed even harder, and he leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Darling, I thoroughly enjoy how responsive you are. You climax so quickly for me, it's utterly delightful." I trembled as my pussy throbbed in response to this intimate compliment. He smiled knowingly and went on. "But I'm afraid we can't spend all day in the bathroom! Get dressed, and we'll have some breakfast." He gestured at a pile of clothes on the bathroom counter, and then left the room.
As soon as he was gone, I leapt for the clothes. He'd found me a blue cotton sundress, slightly too small for me, and undergarments. The silky panties were oddly heavy, with some flat device sewn under the cotton lining in the crotch. With no other options, I slipped them on a bit nervously. I sure as hell wasn't going to go anywhere without underwear! The bra fit snugly, lifting my small breasts and giving me an unexpected amount of cleavage. The tight bodice of the sundress lifted my tits even higher, into smooth mounds of pale skin that rose temptingly over the square neckline. Somewhat surprisingly, the tight dress had a modest hemline, with a draping skirt that fell just above my knees.
I still wore the flat metal bands from the slave shackles around my wrists and ankles, of course. The shiny metal cuffs almost could be mistaken for some kind of weird jewelry, and so I did my best to ignore them. Some flat sandals completed the casual outfit, a few sizes too big but still wearable. Humming and relaxed, I brushed out my long hair, leaving it romantically loose around my shoulders.
Feeling pretty and sophisticated in the borrowed clothes, I left the bathroom. The luxurious bedroom was as I remembered it from the night before, with the heavy four-poster bed dominating the room. My footsteps silent on the thick carpet, I walked to the far door, cautiously opening it. I hadn't left the room since my blind-folded arrival. The hallway beyond was surprisingly austere, and I hesitated, unsure which way to go.