Not to mention, of course, that Paul is here. Paul will likely be the high bidder, if his eyes tell me anything at all. I was already planning to lose my virginity tonight. And hoping it would be to Paul. Why not get paid to do it?
“Let’s do it,” I say, surprised at my own readiness.
“What?” Now it’s Jane’s turn to be awestruck.
“Yeah,” I say, taking her hand now. “Let’s do it! This could be just the thing I need, Jane.”
Jane takes an agonizing moment to decide, but finally, she nods. A bright, mischievous smile follows. “You’re right. Let’s do it, girl!”
“Excellent, ladies.” The woman from the stage smiles, and leads us up to where she just was. “Right this way.”
Chapter 9 – Paul
“I told you she’d do it.” Alex isn’t going to let me forget his awesome powers of prediction. He’s been rubbing it in for the last 5 to 10 minutes, ever since Mariah and her friend first took the stage. There are more women up there with her now. At least 8 to 10 more, not including her friend.
While the other women are dressed in more evening wear attire (some of them even look like they’re wearing lingerie), Mariah looks irresistible in her sweater and warm cotton pants. She’s fidgeting, too. Which only makes me want to pet my dick more. It seems to be threatening to spill out of my pants for her. “I told you she’d be fucking willing to play.”
“Now all you have to do is play along,” says Jordan, sipping on some fancy, spiked eggnog.
I barely pay attention to him or the other women. I’m still so fucking happy Mariah showed up. I’m beside myself that she is up on stage. She’s the picture of demure strength. Her head is slightly down, but her posture isn’t shrinking or overly shy. It’s just a little antsy.
I didn’t think I was going to want to buy any girl, Mariah. But I’d buy you. I will buy you. In a heartbeat. Despite my silent vow, I’m feeling a bit out of my league. Which I don’t like. I make excellent money, but I wonder if some of these guys make even more. Will they be able to buy Mariah out from under me? My stomach churns at the thought of anyone else doing to her the things that I want to do to her.
The woman with a fedora suddenly steps forward, grabbing the mic again. “All right, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get tonight’s festivities underway.” A sultry pause. The hush of her breath in the microphone. “I’m not going to bother explaining the rules, since most of you are old heads at this by now.” Her dark, cat-like eyes scan the dim room halfheartedly. “So, all of you newbies will just have to watch and learn, hmm?”
Some low, knowing chuckles ensue. They’re from all around the room.
“All right.” The woman with the fedora prowls the line of beauties, like she’s the lioness in a den of lions, and the assembled women are lambs ready for the taking. “Let’s start with you.” With no hesitation, her finger selects a woman with long, curly black hair.
Obediently, the woman steps forward.
“What are you offering up tonight?” the woman asks, tipping the microphone toward her lips.
“Dinner and conversation,” she says, twisting a handkerchief she’s holding onto for dear life. She blinks like a deer in the headlights.
“A dinner and conversation,” repeats the woman. “A tame start, but sure, dinner and some chitchat.” She looks out at the tables dressed with men. “Who wants to start the bidding?”
A man’s voice chimes in. “I will.”
“Excellent, sir.” A sultry, have a pause. “What is your bid?”
“$1,500 for the lovely lady’s conversation during dinner,” answers the man.
“$1,500.” The woman turns back to the first beauty on the auction block. “Will you take his offer?”
The dark-haired woman smiles. “Yes.” Loudly, trembling she speaks into the microphone.
“$2,000,” offers another man.
Bidding goes on like this until one man says, “One hundred thousand dollars for oral sex.”
A hush falls over the room, until the announcer asks, “Are you willing to explore an offer that is for more than just dinner and conversation?”
“I am not,” says the girl on stage, shaking her head resolutely.
“Okay then,” the woman in the fedora says at once. “Back to the price for dinner and conversation.”
Bidding had gone up to $15,000 and now continues to climb. I start to sweat, wondering what a full night with a woman will cost me. Because that’s what I want, with Mariah.
Finally, bidding pauses at $25,000.
“Sold!” says Ms. Fedora. “Dinner and conversation for $25,000.”
She gestures for the first beauty to exit the stage and join her “buyer” for the evening. “Next will be…” She turns to the line of women awaiting their turn. She points out another woman. This one is big chested, with blonde hair like a country-music star. “You. Come up here, girl.”
The blonde woman steps forward with more energy. She smiles widely, not anxious now that she’s been called on. When asked, she offers a five-star blowjob. The best blowjob of your life.
Immediately, the bidding starts. Like with the first chick, the first bid is immediately turned down, and replaced. But unlike with the first one, within two or three minutes, the price tag for this one is well over two hundred grand for her plump, practiced lips, big tits and hair.
Eventually, she and her blow job are sold for a quarter of a million dollars, and that’s when I know I am for sure out of my league. There has got to be a guy here willing to pay more than I can for Mariah. So, what was the point of coming here? Doing this? Torturing ourselves with champagne dreams we’ll never get to have?
But I don’t have time to get too depressed. The next girl has been chosen. Her offer is for a threesome with the man who wins and his wife, or vice versa. Of course, excitement rises in the crowd at this offer. I get the feeling threesomes are somewhat of a rare breed in this club. The women who have come to dinner, fully decked out in their evening dresses, look excited. The bidding starts higher than the other two, by far. It starts at fifteen grand, and quickly climbs to over five hundred thousand.
I whistle out of disbelief and a bit of discomfort. Half a mill? For a threesome? I sigh, wishing I had a scotch or a bourbon. My eyes seek out Mariah. Whatever. Mariah’s the only one I need to worry about buying. Maybe I’ll get lucky. I do have a lot of money, and why not blow it on this one Christmas gift I so desire? I smile at her, seeing her glance my way. She quickly puts her eyes down, but the smile I see on her lips is big and mischievous.
The blonde and her offer to sleep with both the winning husband and his wife is sold for $750,000.
More girls file up to the microphone after this. One after the other, they make their offers and wait to see how much money they can bring in. Among the offers made, there are multiple offers for dinner. For oral and anal sex. All these offers bring in sizable amounts of money.
But out of all the offers, the ones that pique my interest are the ones for a full night together, in which the girl pledges to do whatever the man wants to do with her and to her for the right price. It’s this kind of offer I’m hoping to get from Mariah when her turn comes. Hers is almost here. Just one or two more women, and she’s up.
These offers bring in mind boggling amounts. Some as high as nearly a million dollars!
“Jesus Christ!” I hiss, feeling my dick and my wallet threaten to go soft. “Almost a million dollars! That’s…”
“Not something you need to worry about, brother,” says Alex. He hasn’t said anything for so long, I almost forgot he was there. “We have money.” He gestures to himself and Jordan. “You forget that all of us make good money, and we brought you here to spend it on you. And ourselves, too, of course.”
Cold sweats break out on my neck, but I’m not going to let anyone see it. “How in the fuck are you so sure I’ll get the girl I want, Alex? Some people make even more money than we do.” My voice is actually hoarse from the stress I
’m feeling. If I don’t get to fuck Mariah tonight, I’m going to be so mad.
I look over at Jordan, but he doesn’t seem to be sweating at all. Not that he ever seems worried about anything.
While I’m talking, the next woman goes up for auction. I barely hear what she offers. But I certainly hear what the other men bid. Again, it’s in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, whatever it is.
“Don’t worry about it, dude.” Jordan takes a big swing of his spiked eggnog. “Mariah’s almost up. You know you’re gonna bid on her, so just relax and get ready to play ball.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on Mariah. The way she’s standing up there, shooting glances my way more regularly now. One particularly needy glance from her, and I’m hard all over again. My cock pushes against my pants like a sword against a throat. It throbs, as she’s pointed out of the line by the MC.
Fuck the money, I tell myself, as she shyly takes the mic. I’m gonna bid on you, Mariah. And I’m not letting someone else have you. Not without spending every penny I can.
Chapter 10 – Mariah
“You’re up,” purrs the MC as she adjusts her fedora.
I nod, and step forward toward her. As I move, my stomach pitches with a mix of nerves and excitement. Jane whispers encouragement to me as she lets go of my hand, and I reach out for the microphone.
I take it in fingers that feel clumsy. Almost numb, but not quite. I bring it up to my mouth, feeling my throat shiver.
“And what are you going to offer these fine gentlemen tonight, young lady?” Though I have heard this question asked of other women at least 10 times already, it’s different now that it’s my turn to answer.
It takes me a small eternity to respond. Not because I don’t know what I want, but because my courage is failing me. Having a bunch of different guys looking at me is a lot more intimidating than I ever imagined.
It’s only when I look over at Paul, and see him watching me, that I relax enough to speak. “I’m…” I close my eyes momentarily, feeling completely naked. “I’m offering a whole night with me.” I swallow thickly, and hate how moist it sounds magnified by the speaker.
“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 sa
me 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.
Sold as a Domme on Valentine's Day Page 29
