The Bridal Auction (A Wedding Season Series)

by Vivian Ward

  Her tongue begins moving about my shaft as she continues sucking it and I can already tell her lips were made for my cock. Even as a beginner, I can see her potential. Alternating her pace, she speeds up and slows down, speeds up and slows down, over and over, and it’s driving me insane. For this being her first blow job, she seems to catch on fast.

  Bucking my hips, I shove my cock down her throat, giving her small gasps of air between thrusts. “Next. Time. Don’t. Talk. To. Me. Like. That,” I say, breaking my sentence into small words every time my hips lurch forward, blocking her air.

  Tears trickling from her eyes, her mascara begins to run and it’s the most beautiful fucking sight. An innocent girl choking down a thick cock with her makeup smeared. I fucking love it. Coming down her throat, I don’t even have to tell her to swallow it because she already did.

  Tucking myself back in, she stays on her knees, remaining completely still. Reaching down, I use my thumbs to wipe the tears from her face, sucking their saltiness from my skin as she watches in complete silence.

  “I love the way you taste. Your skin, your pussy, even your tears.” She sniffles and partially wipes away some of her smeared makeup. “But, like I said, we’re done here until you decide you’re ready to tell me about yourself.”

  “I already did,” she whispers; her voice hoarse from the throat fucking she just endured.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Kendra. You told me nothing but lies and then you get angry with me. Angry with me,” I repeat for emphasis. “One thing that you might not realize is that I’m an attorney. I have a knack for getting to the bottom of things and finding out the truth. Let that sink in for a bit, my pretty broken doll. I will figure you out and I will put you back together.”

  Her big blue eyes blink as though she’s thinking about what I’ve told her but I don’t give her a chance to respond. Turning on my heel, I leave her kneeling on the floor. I will find out who she is and where she comes from, and when I do, I hope she’s prepared to face the truth.

  After a long, hard week of silence at home, I was happy to go back to work today. I thought it’d be a nice break away from Kendra, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything but her. She’s all I ever think about. When I bid on her, I wasn’t sure that I’d actually care about someone as much as I care for her but I can see how broken she is. She won’t let anyone in—or maybe it’s just me that she won’t let in.

  And as much as I want to pop her sweet little cherry, I want her to open up to me. Trust me. Confide in me. It’s clear to me that she’s never had a strong man in her life, and maybe that’s why she’s so closed off. Maybe she doesn’t know how to take me but I promise, I’m not giving up on her no matter what it takes. Even if she doesn’t choose to stay with me past the 30 days, I’ll never give up on her.

  My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oliver Ford,” I answer.

  “Mr. Ford,” my secretary, Kelly, says.

  “Yes?”

  “You have an urgent call on line three. I explained to the woman that you were—,”.

  “A woman? Put her through,” I demand, assuming it might be Kendra. Nobody at the office knows about her just yet and if she needs something, I want to be there for her.

  “Yes, Mr. Ford,” Kelly replies before the line goes silent for a moment while she connects the call.

  Make a note to tell her that if Kendra calls to put her through ASAP.

  The silence on the line is gone and I know Kelly has connected the calls. “Oliver Ford,” I say.

  “Oliver!” It’s not Kendra’s voice.

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Mistress Pandora,” she says quickly. “We’ve got a problem! A big problem!”

  My eyes grow wide and I fear that Kendra has left the house and ran back to the club. I know she tried to get out of things that very first night but I’ve left her alone this week. Maybe giving her the silent treatment at home has been too much for her. Maybe it completely broke her and she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “What is it?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer. I don’t know why I resonate so well with that broken doll of mine but I want to fix her and make her mine. Whatever she’s been through, I want to erase it and give her something better to remember.

  “There’s a man looking for you, and says he’s Kendra’s dad. This guy is a lunatic,” she gasps.

  “Her dad? But she’s 24, why would her dad come looking for her? She’s a grown woman.”

  “You know our bartender, Amy?”

  “Yeah,” I nod my head.

  “The girls are friends and Kendra’s dad went to Amy’s house to find out where she’d ran off to and based on what she said, this dude is scary. Amy said he’s going to show up at the club to come find her!”

  Kendra

  The past week has been pure hell. Even though Oliver said he would cut things off if I didn’t open up to him, he’s still tried to work his way in. He’s brought me breakfast in bed every morning, but I never eat it. I just push the tray to the side and pretend it’s not there. He’s even had clothes delivered to the house—expensive clothes, one that I’d never dream of buying for myself—but I refuse to wear them.

  I want to open up to him but I’m afraid to do it. Obviously, he must care about me if he brings me food and buys me nice clothes—I’ve never seen my father do that for my mom, but I don’t know what to make of him. I tried to get out of this arrangement on the first night but he won’t let me go. He even told me that he’ll never stop trying!

  He’ll never stop trying.

  It’s insane, right? He thinks I need to be fixed or something. He keeps calling me his little broken doll and I wish he’d stop. I don’t like thinking of myself as broken. And even though he’s done all these nice things to show he cares, it frustrates me because I want him to stop. I want him to stop because I don’t know how to respond or reciprocate. I want him to stop because no matter what he does, it doesn’t change the situation that I’m stuck here until the 30 days are up. I want him to stop because I feel like an asshole when I should probably feel grateful and bend over backwards for the man. I’ve never had anyone—a man—take such good care of me.

  But one thing is for sure. His power, dominance, and persistence turns me on. I’ve replayed my punishment in my mind countless times and each time I do, it only gets hotter. The way he made me drop to my knees, the way he fucked my mouth, the way he pinned me there so he could use me. I don’t know what’s gotten in to me but I want more.

  And that’s about to happen tonight.

  I’ve been looking through the garments that have been delivered and found some really sexy lingerie. Admittedly, I’ve never tried wearing lingerie before, I’m curious what it feels like and what I’d look like in it. Maybe I could surprise him by wearing some and sprawling out on the couch right before he comes home. That’d shock him!

  Damn. It kind of stuns me, too!

  I never thought I could give in to a man this easily but it’s been really hard this past week. I hate that he’s partially ignored me because the truth is, I like having his attention. Part of the reason why I’ve been so defiant is because I was hoping he’d ‘punish’ me again. In some twisted, fucked up way, I thought maybe I could learn more about sex and what he likes by letting him punish me. He could show and tell me what to do, what turns him on, and what he likes. He didn’t last very long when I went down on him and came so fast that I was shocked.

  Maybe I won’t be so bad at this sex stuff.

  Yeah, Kendra, keep thinking that. Maybe you’ll get enough balls to actually go through with it. It is why he bought me after all.

  Slipping into a tight, lacy piece of white lingerie, I stare into the mirror from every angle as I take in my appearance. It fits perfectly and the underwire in the cups lifts my breasts, accentuating my cleavage. Attached to the lingerie is a little plastic bag with more lacy stuff. I open it and unfold a pair of thigh-high silk stockings with la
ce at the top. Not wanting to tear the delicate fabric, I carefully slip it on over my feet and up my legs until they are in place.

  Wow!

  I’ve never seen myself look so feminine and grown up. Making my way back into the bedroom, I begin to look through everything to see what else might be there. I find several pair of heels neatly arranged in the closet and they must’ve cost him a fortune! Opting for a pair of shiny, white heels, I try them on with the lingerie and, I kid you not, I look like a girl out of a lingerie catalog. I had no idea I could look this way. It’s unbelievable.

  If only I had some makeup, I think to myself. I wonder if he’s gone through all the trouble of having clothes and shoes purchased for me if he might’ve thought about makeup, too. Sauntering into the bathroom, I walk over to the double vanity with his and her sinks. I’ve seen him using the far side and it’s decked out with clippers, his toothbrush, aftershave, and the whole nine yards. I’ve only used the comb and toothbrush on my side since I’ve gotten here and never really looked inside any of the drawers. I figured it’s not my home, so why bother.

  When I open the top drawer, there is an array of brushes, combs, picks, a blow dryer, a curling iron, and a flat iron. He really thinks of everything! Sliding open the second drawer, I find an abundance of makeup. There are liquid and powder foundations, various mascaras and eyeliners, several eyeshadow palettes, and at least a dozen shades of diverse lipstick colors.

  I’d like to say that the younger version of myself would be in total awe of all of these items; I’d be in makeover heaven! But the reality is that even 24-year-old me is in heaven. My dad would never allow any of us to wear much makeup, he said we looked like ‘sluts’ so we could only use simple colors like natural or neutral tones—and we even had to use those very sparingly!

  Even when I did my makeup for the bridal auction, I didn’t wear many vibrant colors because I already felt out of my element and didn’t want to attract extra attention to myself but I want his jaw to drop when he comes through that door tonight!

  Grabbing one of the assortment of brushes, I blend some foundation onto my face, making sure it looks natural. I don’t know much about makeup, but I do know that I don’t want to look like an oompaloompa with an orange face and a horrible makeup line! Scanning the various colors throughout all the eyeshadow palettes, I still opt for a natural color but I want a sexy appearance, so I go a few shades darker and create a smoky eye look.

  Admiring my handiwork and satisfied with my appearance so far, I grab a black eyeliner pencil and give myself a thin line above my lashes and create some wings before outlining my waterline. I take a moment to check my makeup and man! My eyes really pop like this!

  I hate my dad. I should’ve started wearing makeup a lot sooner!

  Choosing the right lipstick is the hard part. I can’t decide if I want a natural appearance or if I want hooker red, because it’s totally there and I can’t say that I’m surprised he’d pick that color. He probably likes all of his girls to look like sluts when they suck his dick.

  Fuck it. I’m going for the hooker red! Plus, it’ll totally stand out against all the white and I already know how much he loves oral.

  Glancing at the bathroom clock, I know I’m almost out of time before he comes home. Quickly checking my makeup and clothing one last time, I take my place on the couch and wait for him.

  As the minutes tick by, I start re-thinking my whole plan. This is dumb. Maybe I should just change back into my regular clothes before he gets here. And why in the hell do I even want to have sex with him?

  Sure, he’s done a few nice things for me but he bought me. He bought my virginity. Do I really owe it to him?

  Before I can gather my thoughts or change my mind, I hear the key unlocking the front door. Frozen in place, I’m unable to move and all I can hear is my loud heartbeat buzzing in my ears.

  Oliver

  Stunned by Kendra’s appearance, I stop at the front door and sit my briefcase next to the front door as I kick it shut with my heel. Her wide eyes meet mine as I take in her body in all its glory.

  She looks amazing. Completely fuckable. From head-to-toe, she’s completely done up. I’ve never seen her wear makeup except for the first night I met her at the club and, even then, it was a very subtle look on her. But those smoky eyes and red lips have definitely caught my attention.

  Scanning her body, her cleavage is the next thing that catches my eye and holy hell! My cock gets instantly hard as I think about the things I could to her—and will do to her.

  “Come here,” I say, my voice low and husky.

  Obediently, she comes to me and never loses eye contact, not even once. Her eyes are begging for me. Begging for discipline, instruction, and dominance. I’ll give it to her in spades.

  Pulling her to me, my lips crash into hers as our tongues begin to dance. I kiss her just enough to leave both of us breathless, needing and wanting more, and then I stop. She looks up at me with confusion.

  “On your knees,” I command as I unbuckle my belt. Her eyes watch me with fascination as I whip it through the loops and undo my trousers.

  My cock springs out of my boxers as I pull it out, stroking it in my hand, making her wait with anticipation before I give it to her. And then she does it again. The subtle licking her lips. I wonder if she even realizes she does it.

  Eager to suck my cock, she takes me in her mouth without any further instruction. “Good girl,” I say, pulling her hair.

  Looking up at me through her lashes, she continues to maintain eye contact with me and I swear, it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. The way her plump, red painted lips wrap around my cock send my pulse into overdrive. Thrusting my hips, I fuck her cute little face, forcing my cock deep down the back of her throat.

  Her eyes clothes momentarily and it looks like she’s lost in thought as her hair frames her face. I wonder what’s going on in that little head of hers.

  Grabbing her wrists, I pull her up off her knees. A string of slobber and pre-cum leave a trail from her mouth to my cock until she’s standing fully upright. Scooping her up, I carry her to the bedroom. Our eyes lock the entire time, communicating all of our need and want without a single word. She wants this as much as I do; it’s written all over her innocent face.

  Lying her on the bed, I climb on top of her as we begin to kiss again. Reaching between her legs, I can feel her wetness through the thin material of the lingerie.

  “So wet,” I say, my lips planting kisses along her neck and collarbone.

  Her cheeks pink as she closes her eyes. “Look at me,” I say to her. “Tell me how much you want this.”

  “Why?” She whispers.

  “Because I want to make sure this is what you want.” Silence. “Tell me.”

  A smile spreads across her face and a giggle escapes her throat. “It’s silly.”

  Diving between her legs, I kiss her wet pussy through the tiny scrap of material that separates me from her most intimate parts. “Is it? I’ll stop if you don’t tell me,” I warn, and pull away from her to show her I mean business.

  “I want you,” she says, looking away.

  “I don’t believe you, Kendra. Look me in the eyes. Tell me what you want.” Silence again. She’s so damn shy but I’m going to break her of it. “I want to hear you say it.”

  I can see the war going on inside of her head and there’s no doubt she’s thinking about how I’ve left her alone until now. She knows I’ll stop.

  “I want you,” she finally says.

  “You want me?” I ask, pressing my warm mouth against the soaked material between her legs. “Are you going to give me that sweet little cherry of yours?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, nodding her head. “I want you to have it.”

  “Good girl,” I growl, moving the material to the side. My tongue lashes against her clitoris as I slide a finger inside her. She’s so fucking tight and I can hardly wait to be inside of her but first, I want her to come on my
face. I make my tongue stiff as I trace circles around her clit and continue to finger her. She might not realize it, but she’s so close to coming. Her thighs begin to tighten as her back arches and I know it’s right around the corner. She’s right on the brink of exploding.

  Picking up my pace, my tongue moves faster as I press against her G-spot. “Oh, fuck,” she cries out, halfway sitting up. Her tiny hand reaches for my hair in a feeble attempt to push my face away, so I grab her wrists and pin them down against the mattress.

  “Uh-uh,” I shake my head. “I’m not done yet.”

  My tongue lashes against her clitoris, milking her for everything she’s got. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she pants, trying to wiggle away. When I know she’s too sensitive to take anymore, I finally stop and climb up next to her.

  “Oh, my God,” she says, trying to come down from her state of euphoria. After a few minutes, she finally does.

  Leaning over, she kisses me. “Is that what I taste like?” She asks, pulling back for a second as she runs her tongue over her lips.

  “Do you taste yourself on me? It’s sweet, isn’t it?”

  Nodding, she leans back over and kisses me again. Knowing that this sweet little virgin likes tasting herself on me makes my cock rock hard.

  Flipping her over, I get on top of her. My mouth can’t get enough of her. It’s on her mouth, her neck, her breasts, back down to her pussy, and then back up to her mouth. I could devour her all night, but we don’t have all night because we have to get to the club because her dad will be there.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask, stroking my stiff, rigid cock with one hand while I hover over the top of her. Pre-cum is pooling out of my tip at the thought of being inside of her.

  Nodding her head, she leans up to kiss me. Temporarily breaking the kiss, I whisper, “If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll slow down.”

  Slowly, I begin to guide my cock into her entrance as we kiss until I’m met with resistance. Looking into her eyes, I silently ask for permission. Once I break her hymen, there’s no going back. She gives a simple nod and says, “I’m okay.”