Sold at the Ski Resort

by Juliana Conners

  “Good start,” murmurs the MC. She lets me hear her high heels pace in front of me. “What else?”

  There’s a hungry beast behind those words. A woman who knows how to sniff out inexperience and innocence, and feed on it.

  In my head, I picture my ideal man. Paul. The way I want him to ravage me. The way I want him to take complete and utter control of my body, mind and spirit. I don’t just want to lose my virginity. I want to lose complete control.

  Before I’ve even made the decision to speak, I hear myself say, “I’m offering to the man who wins the bid, the right to do whatever he wants with me. Anything you can imagine, I want you to do it. Dominate me. Eat me. Possess me.” I blush deeply, thinking about what Mom would think if she knew where I was right now.

  I hear the woman in the fedora hum appreciatively. It’s as if she’s meditating on the possibilities of that, right along with the men. Then, “Yes, sir? You have a question?”

  I open my eyes, hoping Paul is the man with the question. Unfortunately, it’s not him. It’s a man sitting closer to me.

  “My question is for you, miss,” the man says. He has a deep Southern accent. Like he’s from Texas or Missouri. “Would I be correct in assuming you’re a virgin?”

  The directness of his question nearly steals all the breath from my lungs. My fingers almost lose their grip on the microphone. I’m embarrassed to feel myself shaking so much. But I don’t look at the gentleman who asked the question, nor any of the other men around him. They have eyes like hungry sharks. Finding Paul and his steady, handsome eyes again, I answer. “Yes. I am,” I say.

  To my pleasure, I see Paul’s face and eyes light up. Not with the same mindless hunger that the other men do when they hear the same words out of my mouth, but with something warmer. Possessive, as if he has already made me his, and he’s only making the other men think they have a chance at me.

  “I’m a virgin.” Lightly, I clear my throat. “I’m offering my virginity, and all that entails to the man whose bid I accept and exceeds all others.”

  “Wow!” The MC turns on her heels, working the audience with her own brand of sexy. “Here that, gentleman? We have a virgin!”

  She laughs like a businesswoman closing the best deal of her career. It’s drowned out by the wild cheering and hooting that’s erupted from most of the tables.

  “We haven’t had one of those since last ski season, gentlemen! I guess all the virgins come to Aspen on ski trips. Get those dicks and price tags up, boys!” She swaggers forward a bit more. “This girl’s first time is on the line! Make sure it’s worth it!” She pauses. “Do I have my first bid?”

  The minute she asks the question, she’s drowned out by numbers.

  “$50,000!” someone shouts. I nod, though I’m surprised by how high it’s starting.

  “$80,000!” someone else shouts.

  “$100,000,” says the cowboy type. I ignore him, and look to Paul’s table. He seems to be talking to his brother and friend who are at the table with him. He looks as surprised as I do that the price is already so high. Or maybe it’s more that he’s anxious.

  His brother gazes at me, punching his arm. I see him mouth what looks like, “Don’t worry. Bid!”

  “$200,000,” calls someone from the back of the room. He’s quickly drowned out by other offers. With every bid, the amount is going up by tens of thousands of dollars.

  In no time at all, the bid is at $300,000, then $400,000!

  I nod to each of these offers, but I still don’t break my eyes away from Paul. Not for long, anyway. Please, Paul, I think, please bid on me. Make a bid. Any bid.

  I bite my lip, looking around at the other tables and the men seated there. None of them are as attractive or alluring as Paul. Please! I look back at Paul’s table, just in time to see the tag-a-long friend whose name starts with a J but escapes me now growl, “Get in there, man! We told you not to worry about it! Bid!”

  Paul locks eyes with me and I see him lick his lips contemplatively.

  I don’t want any of these other guys. I just want you!

  “$600,000,” barks Paul, as if he’s tired of these posers.

  “$680,000,” comes in immediate counteroffer.

  “$750,000,” returns Paul, looking at his brother. The brother nods.

  “888,000,” calls a voice way in the back. I nod, though I’m not sure they’ll be able to see anything.

  “$900,000,” comes yet another bid. This one from a darkened corner.

  My knees are beginning to shake. Not only from how much money is being thrown around, but because I’m starting to get nervous. My eyes go back to Paul, who looks a little pale, but determined.

  “$900,000,” says the MC, after a short pause, “Do we have any other bids?” Another pause. “$900,000, going once, $900,000 going twice…”

  Just when I think Paul’s decided he’s going to back out, he jumps out of his seat, yelling, “A million dollars!” His voice is loud and firm, causing my knees to quake for a new reason.

  Murmurs go up just about as fast as my heart rate.

  “A million dollars,” murmurs the MC. “A million for this woman’s virginity, and a whole night in which to take it in whatever way you want.” A heavy, hot sigh. “Do I have any more takers?”

  Whisperings of “I’m out,” and “No way,” emerge from different tables around the room. But not from Paul’s. He stands right where he is, shoulders back, eyes fixed on me.

  “A million dollars going once, going twice.” The MC stops for what feels like an unnecessarily long time, making me feel like my heart’s going to stop. Like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. Finally, she says, “Sold!”

  In that moment, I can’t help it. I laugh — almost cry — with relief. “Thank God,” I murmur, about to lose it.

  In that same exact moment, I also hear Paul celebrate his good fortune. “Yes!” He practically roars, slamming his hands down on the table.

  I’m smiling as the MC asks me to get off the stage and go meet him. I do so quickly.

  In no time at all, I’m in Paul’s grasp, and being led back out the doors of The Exchange Club. But not before I look back at Jane, whose just been called out for her turn.

  She sees me looking, and gives me a subtle wink. Thumbs up.

  I think I see “Good luck, girl,” on her lips, but I can’t be sure. Before I can see much more, I’m out the door, and being chased up the stairs by Paul.

  He really is a Jaguar.

  It won’t be long before he pounces.

  Chapter 11 – Mariah

  By the time Paul and I escape the darkness and chill of the basement stairs and come back out into the night air, we have a ride waiting for us. It’s a sleek silver car with an Uber sticker on one of its windows.

  Part of me wants to ask how Paul was able to orchestrate this so perfectly — how he knew he was going to need a ride for two back, and at this particular time — but I don’t have time to think about it. And I don’t want to. Paul opens a door on the car for me, and helps me inside.

  Snow has started to fall pretty heavily outside again, so I’m glad for the warmth of the car. The softness of the leather. The driver makes a bit of polite conversation with me; asks me how my night has been, how I’m liking the Aspen area, etc.

  I say that I’m enjoying myself. That I’m on a mini vacation, and that I’ve gotten to try some new and interesting things.

  Paul slides in through his open door just as I finish talking. He then proceeds to scoot as close to me as the seatbelts will allow. He buckles me in, and then himself.

  The Uber driver brings his eyes to the front, asking where we’re headed.

  Paul answers that we’re heading back to the Aspen ski lodge and resort, and that alone is enough to get me feeling things. Noticing the wetness, I feel in my panties, and along the inside of my thighs. I hadn’t noticed while I was on stage, but I guess the bidding turned me on more than I realized. Especially Paul’s moment of victo
ry.

  For the first minute or two of the car ride, all Paul and I do is gaze at each other. Exchange smiles. It isn’t until Paul has the driver turn up some smooth jazz and more heat, that he starts a conversation.

  “I don’t usually listen to jazz,” he tells me. “But I recently found out it can be quite soothing.”

  I laugh, thinking that his words sound very soothing to me.

  “I’m glad that I got to see you again,” he says. His lips curl into a handsome, devilish grin. “When your friend said no, I was afraid I was cockblocked for good.” His eyes twinkle, and I can almost feel the twitch of his cock through my fingertips, as if I’m already holding it. “But you proved me wrong. And to see you on stage?” He lets out a breath of air. “What can I say?”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “I still can’t believe I went and did something like that.”

  Paul chuckles with me. “When I first met you, I thought you might be too shy,” he whispers, tracing a finger down one of my hands. The gesture thrills me and comforts me at the same time. It’s as if somehow we’ve always been like this, even though we didn’t know each other existed until tonight. “But I’m glad to know that my million-dollar lady has a bit of feistiness to her,” he adds, moving his finger from my hand, down to my leg. Feeling the tremble that goes through it, he hums. “It’s going to make devouring, dominating and doing whatever I want to you tonight that much more fun.”

  Those words land in my ear like hot candy. Cinnamon and chocolate melted together.

  “Well, then I look forward to being under your complete and total control, Mr. Millionaire,” I say. I’m not usually so forward with people I just met. Particularly men, but I don’t feel nervous around him. Excited, sure. But how could I not be?

  He clears his throat a bit when I say “millionaire,” as if signaling that he is much richer than that. My panties get even wetter and I decide to continue flirting with him.

  “I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to do with all of my”— I fight to keep a wicked smile from my face and lose—“virgin territory?”

  Briefly, I wonder when I became so fond of innuendo. I also briefly worry about what Mom would say or think about that.

  But Paul leans closer to me and erases all of that. “I like the skiing analogy. That’s a nice touch. But, don’t worry, baby.” Maybe it’s just the passing streetlights or the glare from the snow, but Paul’s eyes appear more golden for a brief moment. More faceted, as if he really is a big cat hiding in a human frame. “I know exactly what I’m going to do with all of you. Every inch of you is going to be explored. Mapped out by my fingers. Tasted by my tongue, come morning.” He emphasizes “come,” and I know I’ll be doing that until the wee morning hours.

  “I am happily yours to enjoy and use to the fullest,” I say, thinking how amazing it is that he’s a millionaire, at least. He certainly doesn’t carry himself like it.

  “Oh, you’re going to be full all right,” he says, as I see the resort comes into view. “Just wait till I get you back to my room.”

  Short, strong pulses go through my pussy, and shock their way deep into my lips and clit.

  “You’re going to be filled and crammed and stuffed,” he promises under his breath. He nibbles at my ear. “You’re not even going to remember what it’s like to be empty, when I’m done with you.”

  As the car finally comes to a stop right outside the lodge, I have no doubt about that. I also have no doubt that if I don’t get out of the car, I’m going to want him to take me in the backseat of this car. As I climb out, I see Paul feels the same way. Hunger dances in his eyes, but he’s waiting to get me alone. Cornered in his room, before pouncing.

  Jaguars are skilled like that.

  ***

  To my delight, the moment we get to Paul’s room and he shuts the door, I’m overtaken. First by his hands as he grabs me by the hips. Then the waist and breasts.

  At each place he grabs, he undresses. Strips me bear. He does so with a crackle and a spark in his movements.

  “I love what you’re wearing,” he says. “You look better in casual ski clothes than those other girls did in their fine evening attire.”

  As he talks, his hands continue to work. They’re fast. Precise. Hot, and that only makes the air around me feel colder and more charged, like it’s been whipped up by an invisible lightning.

  In no time at all, he has all of me naked and exposed. Instinctually, I go to cover myself up, but he slaps my hand away, and then slaps the part I tried to cover. First my breasts and then my pussy. The way he slaps me isn’t hard, but it’s demanding. Dominant. “Hands off,” he says. “You’re blocking my view. I need your full body exposed to me at all times.”

  Obediently, I bring my hands to my sides and keeping them there. My pussy clenches as I see him staring at it, and then up at my nipples that are standing on edge for him. He takes in my entire naked body and nods approvingly.

  “Good girl,” he says, and bites each breast, taking time to suck on the nipples. The movement is quick. Decisive. Enough to make me feel the shock of his sudden presence, but not enough for pleasure. Not yet. He is going to make me wait for it, and I love it.

  “You are mine to do with as I please,” he purrs, walking me to the bed, and pushing me down on it. “That means you have no control from this point on. If I’m right, tell me ‘yes, sir.’”

  “Yes, sir,” I agree.

  Magically, it seems, he’s produced soft but sturdy leather or velvet ties from somewhere in his clothes, or from a drawer. I don’t know where exactly, and I don’t care. My pussy is quaking with so much excitement, I can barely pay attention to what he’s saying.

  For a moment, Paul doesn’t speak. He just works quickly, fastening one end of the soft ties to my wrists, and the other to the bed posts. To my surprise, I’m not scared of being tied up. If anything, I’m more turned on. As it is, I can feel my pussy lips and hair getting wet. Goopy, and he hasn’t even touched me for real yet.

  “I love your curves and your hourglass shape,” Paul says, looking me up and down as he ties me up, and making me decide to give up dieting once and for all. I’d always suspected that my curves were a bit sexy, and now I have confirmation.

  Paul gives the ties a test. Pulls on them, to see if they fail him. They don’t. They remain strong, even after a few short and quick snaps.

  He then crawls onto the bed. He crawls up toward my legs, which are now shaking from cold and excitement. His movements are calculated. Silky. Smooth. Exactly like that of the big jungle cat I’ve been comparing him to all this time. Even his serious, calculating expression reminds me of something a Jaguar would wear if he were human.

  “Open your legs,” he commands.

  Instantly, I obey him. I pull apart my legs, ignoring the brief feelings of shame and embarrassment I have. Before long, I’m enjoying them. Reveling in them.

  But it seems I haven’t done a good enough job. Because Paul moves closer, and pushes open my legs farther. He does so as if I’m deliberately not following directions. But instead of anger, the motion is more about impressing me, drowning me in his powerful aura, and it works.

  “I need your legs open all the way,” he says. “I need you to give all of yourself to me at all times, in order for this to work well.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say instinctively, loving the way he takes charge.

  “I’m not going to take your virginity right here and now, Mariah.” As he speaks, he moves closer, begins to move his head lower. “I’m going to work you up first. Drive you crazy, so that you’ll be begging me to put my cock in you, got it?”

  I nod, hearing and feeling my arms tightening with excitement against the restraints.

  He spanks my bare ass, as a reminder that I haven’t said the magic words.

  “Yes, sir,” I tell him. “You can do to me as you please.”

  “Good.” With that, he goes down on my pussy. The moment his lips touch down, it’s like I’ve been ambush
ed by a pack of vibrators. The feeling of his lips and tongue as they devour and taste every inch of my lips and hood is maddening. To add to the madness, he flicks my clit with his wet, soft tongue every few seconds. Just enough to make me feel the tingle, but not enough to build up the pressure.

  At least, that’s the way it begins.

  Very quickly, he moves his attention away from my lips, and directly to the base of my clit and then its body. He starts out with slow, deliberate licks.

  I moan deeply under these. I arch back, feeling him move from one side of my clit to the other. Every flick of his tongue is slow, but hard. Hot and heavy, despite the wetness of his mouth.

  Within seconds I’m dizzy and addicted. And that’s before he increases the speed.

  He does that moments later, after I moan at him again. After I rattle in my velvet chains.

  The increased speed of his tongue comes down on my clit like a massager on steroids. It’s quick. Almost buzzing, but with a hint of softness. Like getting petted by a set of bees’ wings. As his tongue darts in and around every part of my big, quickly-engorging clit, I realize I’ve begun to yelp. Scream. Fidget.

  I feel completely exposed, with my pussy spread open wide for him and his tongue going down on me. I arch my back more, feeding him my pussy, begging him to keep eating it, keep sucking on it, keep making it feel so much better than I’ve ever been able to make it feel myself. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for, fantasizing about, wanting.

  Paul presses his hands into my hips in response, deciding to start sucking my clit head on. He tightens his lips to just the right size for my little bead, and goes to work. I start moaning and screaming all over again, but softly. By the weight he’s putting into my legs and keeping them splayed open, he wants me to sing for him, but more quietly.

  I obey, feeling like I have galaxies swirling above my head. I’ve never felt so much pleasure in my life. I never thought it was physically possible, and with just the use of a mouth.

  But as quickly as it comes on, Paul’s frenzied eating out of my pussy comes to a stop.