Hunted by Billionaires Box Set

by Ryan Ramsay

  I woke up too early for my liking to finish the last game of Fortnite. It was 4:22 a.m. when I hopped into the shower. By 4:55 I was in the garage, flipping my key into the ignition, and I sat in quiet comfortably for a few minutes before I noticed it.

  It was a letter, made of old paper and it was wax-sealed. I was unsure at the moment what it meant, given that I live on my own island.

  What’s a guy to do but open such an effort up?

  I was shook.

  Thirty minutes later, I was at Bill’s door. It was open. He was on his couch, sanitizer and hand towels used,

  “Jesus man, a little too much there? Do you mind cleaning up?”

  He was silent. I could only guess why. Post-self-coitus mentality can be a soothing and dangerous realm to be in. I inched closer, trying my best to ignore the three sticky gobs of dripping moisturizer, the mouth-ball chain, the flaying whip, the ass vibrating plug, and the brunette sleeping on the back up bed. Bill definitely had some kinky tastes but I wished he would do a better job of keeping himself together.

  “Bill, bro, you’re wigging me out, man. Talk to me.”

  He was fully clothed and suited, crouched, knees apart, his face down. I could only see the edge of his beard moving up and down in elective motions.

  “Bill?”

  I was right behind him when I saw it in his hands: the purple seal and the old Victorian paper, with the exact same handwriting; with the exact letterhead, with the same envelope. Only our names had been switched.

  He moved, finally, and faced me.

  He was smiling, the widest I have ever seen.

  “I got the same letter,” I told him.

  “You got invited too?” he asked.

  I swear the man was almost in a weeping state of joy.

  “I did.”

  “Do you think it’s legit?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Show me yours. Maybe the instructions are different,” he said, with the lengthy smoke pipe in his hand.

  I pulled the letter out of my pocket and handed it to him.

  The purple wax glinted mildly in the sunlight.

  He read through it.

  Slowly, he put it down and breathed a thick puff of smoke, deep down from his lungs.

  Fate had decided.

  “They say exactly the same thing,” he said. “Must be legit.”

  “See you at 3, then,” I said, right before leaving his corner office and heading for the hangar.

  **

  And now here we are: fifteen hours away from anyone who knows me. The landscape is quite beautiful, though. It has been so for the past hour.

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  Bill watches me closely, given my fast and bloodied temper. He stands by the wooden floor, socks only, and leans on a length of bamboo décor that seems to be the wall surrounding us.

  Our other player in this billionaire treasure hunt, Scott, sits quietly by the clean wooden entrance, almost in a meditative trance.

  “It’s been an hour, Bill. She should be here. Or is this all a joke now?”

  “It’s no joke,” pipes in Scott, in the strangest Boston accent I have ever heard. “Maybe she just got delayed. We will play, that I know.”

  “Maybe we should enjoy the air a little more?” asks Bill.

  I twitch at his request and click my tongue impatiently. For all the money in the world, I have never been one for waiting.

  I choose to walk back, slide a few steps off the varnished floor, and kneel on one knee close to the jumbo screen to the right of the sliding panels. I nudge the button at the top right plastic and push it. It falls in seamlessly.

  The video plays once more.

  Thank you, and welcome.

  You have been chosen.

  The face on the screen is seriously enticing. Mia Ling, she said her name was. Her arms fall strongly to her side, letting each hand twine with the other right below the thick of her waist.

  A smile spreads across her face that somehow suggests pleasure, deep and innate.

  I liked her the moment we landed in Japan.

  Ridley Scott, Adam Goodman, and Bill Bucket: you are here on invitation and by merit. This is not a mistake. Out of a pool of hundreds you will, this year, make yourselves worthy of a successful treasure hunt; a game. It is being held in this secret location, far from home, and on a special American occasion – Thanksgiving – as these were the instructions I was requested to arrange.

  I sit on the floor, careful not to stretch my knee out too much. Bill and Scott’s eyes are on my back, and clearly move towards the screen.

  Maybe it’s just therapeutic to watch her speak with such machismo. It’s rare to find that striking balance between strength and gentility in a woman. I watch her as she goes on to explain why we are here once more.

  I apologize for the secrecy in your travel arrangements.

  We had to take the ultimate precautions for safety measures.

  She is not kidding. The ride to the airport moved through the backwoods of towns and villages I have never heard of — off-map, of course — and in cheap vehicles I never thought I would get into again.

  Then there was the issue of getting into a private jet that neither Bill nor I own.

  On top of that, there were the sleeping pills added to the water we drank immediately once the flight started. I was fucking pissed when I woke up not feeling the top of my scalp.

  But here you are, ready as you ever will be to take on a challenge for only the greats: the quest for a virgin.

  That gets my attention. Just as her reception did. I calm down quicker than a tamed bear.

  There are rules, of course, which I will explain to you shortly. You will find that breaking these rules leads to an abundance of consequence. It will be wise to do otherwise.

  She smiles on the video, pauses, and beams wider.

  Have fun, and may the best man win.

  The screen goes off, and for the third time this night, Bill sighs at my low tolerance for patience.

  “She’s going to get here soon. After all, she did meet us at the hangar, right?”

  I tilt my head in acceptance of the fact.

  “Then she’ll be here. Calm your tits.”

  Scott snickers. I let that go.

  “I apologize for the delay.”

  “Jesus!” I start to stand up when I see her. She’s even more gorgeous in person: curvy hips and full breasts. “I did not see you come in.”

  “Few people ever do,” says Mia, with her impeccable flitter of teeth.

  She resumes the stance in the video, assuming dominance in the room. Her dragon kimono looks exquisite under the yellow and red flowery paintings off the walls and ceiling. Bill and Scott are up on their feet as well, mesmerized and intrigued at her presence.

  “What took so long, Miss Ling?” asks Scott, his arms now folded across his surprisingly wide chest.

  She looks down momentarily and then directs her gaze at me.

  “A slight hiccup in the arrangements, soon to be dissolved.”

  “No worries, then. What are the rules of the game?”

  “Mr. Bucket I—”

  “Please, we’ve waited long enough,” he says, pursuing his one-sixteenth Icelandic charm with her. She sighs, picking herself up and regaining her gait.

  “You will each sign off four million dollars into an offshore bank account before we begin.”

  None of us flinches.

  “After that, you will each partake in a treasure hunt. Somewhere in this vast house is a golden necklace with a dragon engraving all along its length. Whoever finds it gets to have sex with the virgin in the uppermost room facing the waters outside. It’s quite a sight, if I do say so myself.”

  “The rules are simple, Mr. Bucket, Mr. Scott and Mr. Goodman. You will not help each other find the necklace. You will not have sex with the virgin before finding the prize. You will not source outside help for this challenge. The virgin is allowed to choose whom she w
ould like to help find the necklace, if she’d like. And most important of all, you will ensure you have the utmost fun with the glaring feeling of being watched.”

  “Are we being watched?” asks Scott.

  His brow is low and questioning.

  “No,” she answers confidently. “What happens here is strictly confidential and only for your pleasure. These are the rules.”

  “Great!” I enthusiastically clap. “Where do we sign off? I’m in the mood to win and get wet all over.”

  Mia slightly winces.

  “That’s the problem, Mr. Goodman. You can’t.”

  “And why not?” asks Bill, with a weight of exasperation above his head.

  “The virgin of the night is not here. She never arrived when you did. I was hoping she was just late and that she would show up during my spiel, so that things could go off without a hitch, but of course it didn’t happen that way.”

  She is met with too many questions from us.

  “What does this mean?”

  “Has it happened before?”

  “What next?”

  She keeps quiet at our bombarding questions until we too, fall silent.

  She takes a moment before saying, “I shall have to cancel the event.”

  Her face is flat of emotion, but her eyes tell the whole story.

  I’ve seen it before in the eyes of executives whose companies go defunct.

  It is the face of defeat.

  But suddenly, it comes to me.

  How I didn’t think of it instantly escapes me.

  “I have a better idea,” I suggest. “Be the game’s virgin.”

  Chapter 6

  Mia

  “I didn’t hear that right. Come again?”

  He stands with his fists clenched to his sides, a devilish grin upon his face.

  “Be the virgin. Let whoever finds the treasure take you as the prize.”

  “That’s preposterous for two reasons,” I tell him. “‘A’ – it’s never happened before, and ‘B’ – it’s not happening now.”

  “And why can’t it?” Bill asks.

  I give him my best glare, which is reserved only for the likes of Alex. He calms his hype and looks away. I move my chin up, watching each of them carefully. Their blood is somewhat calling for its kind, and I am conflicted.

  Marcy Kincaid is a twenty-year old woman with surprising angst and a hatred for society. I was as surprised as my investors were to discover that the farthest she had gone was fingering her cunt with a fearful pinky.

  Apparently, the feeling of a big, hard cock had never appealed to her. I approached her three nights ago, right after my call with Ashley. I felt the need to work, and work I did.

  Marcy was seated at one of her church’s youth events, alone, in striped tights at the top balcony. She was an easy target. Her face was young, her eyes not so much. She had seen enough as an overseas student to Vietnam.

  It was a wonder she came back to fight for civil rights or something or other like that – I forget exactly what it was. She agreed to play my game. I was assured she would be here, but she didn’t come.

  Once I had realized she was late, the guys were clearly tired of waiting and I didn’t want to give up the potential for the money so I launched into my spiel, hoping she would be here by the time I was done. But it was clear, now, that she wasn’t coming.

  Which leaves me with these three hungry bulls promised fresh meat which is undelivered.

  Did Alex do this?

  God, I hope not.

  For his sake.

  Scott eyes me up and down from the corner of his eye. His strong chin begs for adversity. The lump in my throat slides down a little slower this time.

  “What do you say, Miss Ling?” asks Adam, his cheeks bulging and his pearly whites revealing themselves.

  I never wanted to give in to anyone.

  Ever.

  Not after Alex.

  But…

  This is my job. This is what I’ve built. I have to preserve it.

  My God: three men.

  “Very well gentlemen. The rules of the game shall apply nonetheless. Find the golden necklace, fuck the virgin.”

  I am such a liar to say that I have not thought about it before. It, this feeling, an itch of altered pleasure, started when I watched Stephanie’s beautiful eyes dilate and shimmer under the weight of an orgasm brought on by multiple men at once.

  I watched her skin heave, her nipples sweat, and the tongues of the three men she was with flitter across her engorged nub like they were in the desert, and she was an oasis. I watched quietly, knowing full well I should never partake.

  I ignored the itch.

  Then came Christy. Her nails dug deep into each of her now husbands. I suppressed my squeal when they went in, hoping, no, praying that the wave of rocking pleasure was enough for two. I watched as she swallowed cock, as flesh pounded on pussy until rivulets of ecstasy sprayed out and onto their faces.

  Amy’s time was when I couldn’t take it. Her screams made me rub one out in the 13th bathroom floor of the mansion.

  I remember it like a dream, vivid but not quite lucid. I put my hand up my skirt and let my fingers trail over my pussy lips and then rest on my pussy lips. When I couldn’t stand it a second longer, I let my fingers rub my clit, attacking it vigorously, swirling and pinching and circling it and then putting my fingers up my pussy hole so they could fuck me while I played with myself.

  Over and over I went to town, loving he build up of pressure within my folds, within my slippery, wet, dripping cunt. I thought about how it would feel for three men at once to take me.

  That’s right – even though I’m a skilled organizer of sex games, I myself have never had sex. Indeed, it was the whole reason Alex had become a jerk to me and I had broken it off with him, since he wanted sex and I wasn’t ready.

  But now I was. Not for him, of course, but for a different man. Or maybe multiple men. Because now I worried that no one man could ever do. I had seen things. And I wanted them.

  One cock in my pussy. One in my ass hole. One in my mouth.

  I wanted cocks filling me up and cramming me full and stuffing me to the brim. I wanted to cum on one cock, sliding around in my own juices, while another cock was cumming down my throat and still the third was blowing its load into my ass hole.

  I wanted to lose my anal virginity along with my regular virginity. Maybe at the same time.

  I thought of all of this and more on that day in the bathroom when I was rubbing my clit. Then I screamed silently when the blood rushed and the cream gushed through me.

  And honest to God, I don’t even want to even think about Jesse’s time in the haunted mansion. Since that was the night Alex came back and tried to ruin everything. My body betrayed me then.

  And now, I want it to obey me.

  If I can’t make money without selling my virginity, then I’ll sell it. And I bet I’ll even like it.

  I may just get fucked tonight.

  If they find the damn treasure, that is.

  **

  And so it begins.

  This is the part where one of them comes up to the girl and starts a conversation. I watch from the pinnacle of the wooden flooring, arms taught, and thighs clenched.

  Adam is the first to move through the panels and into the chateau. Bill follows after a quick glance at Scott’s remarkable strides towards me. The two seem to be getting along swimmingly.

  Interesting.

  “Hey,” he starts.

  “Hey,” I cut short.

  He smirks and leans closer. “Curious turn of events, yeah?”

  “I would say so myself if I were not allowed to have a chat with you.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me,” I say with surprising clarity.

  He laughs this time, albeit gently.

  “What do you have to gain from this?”

  “From what?”

  “This.” He raises his arms wide and apart, showcasing th
e surrounding dojo. “The game: is it all worth it?”

  “You would be surprised by just how much, Mr. Ridley.”

  “Prove it to me. What makes this job far better than anything else in the world?”

  I indulge in a tender smile.

  “I travel the world. Get to see the sights. Meet the greats.”

  “You could do all that with a standard sales gig. What really gets you into the thick of things?”

  He has my attention.

  “Walk with me,” he says.

  Funny.

  I think he’s actually interested.

  These men came here to hunt for a different virgin.

  But they seem even happier to hunt for me.

  Chapter 7

  Bill

  This man Scott is quite the interesting guy. He tells me tales, varied tales of intrigue and conspiracy. I don’t buy it.

  When I got the letter and chose to follow every word, I honestly thought my prayers were answered. As a high-risk investor, it’s been a life of want and need, jumping, hopping, from footstool to high-rise, getting and losing.

  It’s the kind of life my folks warned me about when growing up. A life of money. A life of passionate wealth.

  But I came to realize all too harshly that it means nothing more than options. And that’s why I came.

  To experience something more than my normal reality. And when the prize is a night with a virgin, especially one in such a sweet length of dress, who wouldn’t take it?

  They’re talking.

  Why are they talking together?

  Is he trying to leverage his way into her?

  Fuck no.

  I can’t let that happen.

  And so I push back the panel. I feel the steps widen under my sheathed toes. They curl at the cold. I walk on.

  Her eyes draw closer. His brows ride higher. I take the chance.

  I seize this opportunity and grab her by the waist, her god-almighty-gorgeous waist that compliments her curves so nicely, and pull her down to my knee. The room stands still. Time marches on. Her lips merge into mine. She falls too.

  Eternity passes before she pulls away.

  “That is not allowed under the rules.”