So I grunted in acknowledgment.
“Yeah that was pretty classic huh?” I asked. It was my turn to smirk now. “Tammy was pretty fucking awesome huh?
“Fucking awesome?” snorted Rob. “More like that girl couldn’t survive without her handlers.”
Because it was true. Tammy had an entourage surrounding her, but this wasn’t your regular group of hangers-on and super-fans. Her particular entourage included a speech therapist and autism specialist, both of whom worked with Tammy on a daily basis to help her recognize cues from other people, to develop advanced social skills.
“Well, I hope you plowed her good,” I grunted. “I hope you got to sample the delicacies.”
Robert just shook his head.
“You’re fucked up man, you know that? Really sick in the head. The woman is practically disabled, and you sent her out on a date.”
I shrugged. Didn’t bother me.
“Was her entourage with her?”
Robert nearly blew his top then.
“Of course they were! That woman can’t get around without someone wiping her ass for her, we had five people with us at the restaurant, it was fucking insane.”
I just grinned once again.
“But there weren’t five people in the bedroom right? You got some nookie-nookie with the blonde?”
And Robert rolled his eyes at that one.
“Fuck you man, fuck you. I’m not even answering that.”
I grinned once more. Because hey, that’s all I cared about. So long as I got a chance to sample the goods, then I didn’t care what was in her head, what was going on her brain. And in Tammy’s case? The real answer was probably that nothing going on in the second story. It’s unfortunate, but the bimbo was literally so dumb that it was just air up there, and not in a good way.
So I gestured to a passing waitress and beckoned her over.
“Listen, can we get another one of those?” I said, pointing to the discarded catalogue on the table. “A new one? Untouched?”
The woman, this time a delectable brunette, nodded sweetly.
“Certainly sir, I’ll see right to it.”
And she waltzed off, hips swaying, butt cheeks bouncing in those high heels.
“Huh,” I grunted. Seems that everyone knew about these catalogues but me. What the hell, had it gone to my email and I’d missed it? I was gonna have to get my assistants on this shit, it was clearly more important than plan documents or prospectuses, the business junk that clogs my inbox daily.
And soon the woman came back, bearing a booklet on her silver platter.
“Here you go sir,” she murmured sweetly, bending over to hand it to me. And lo and behold, but those tits swung in my face, narrowly brushing my nose, literally just centimeters from my mouth. Again, they were good, but not quite great. Tanned with deep brown nipples, the sacs swayed before me, tips hard from the cold air of the bowling alley.
But shit, I’m not a man to turn down candy, and in this case, it was already the second time tonight. The goods were still Grade A, just not Grade A+, and I could deal, at least for a moment. So I went for it. Leaning forward, in one swift movement, I caught a nipple in my mouth, sucking that hard nub between my lips, tasting our cocktail waitress. And the woman sighed ecstatically, throwing her head back, crying out with a soft sigh.
“Oh yes!” she moaned, hips twisting erotically, hands moving up and down her sides sensuously. “Yes, yes!”
But again, this woman wasn’t my type. There just wasn’t enough flesh on her frame, she was too scrawny all over, these tits too small, that bottom too flat. To really feel it, I needed at least thirty more pounds, hefty goodness, miles and miles of white flesh, and this woman simply didn’t deliver.
So I popped her nipple out of my mouth and gave it once last lick, squeezing her ass affectionately.
“Thanks baby,” I rumbled. “But that’s good,” and with that, I placed a five hundred dollar bill on that silver tray, waving her away.
The woman pouted for a moment, body still quivering, nipple shiny and glistening from my saliva. And I admit, I was tempted to go back in for more, to let it all go, but enough was enough. She just wasn’t my thing. I wanted more. I wanted big, I wanted bountiful, I wanted to fuck a woman who bounced, jounced, and jiggled everywhere, and our waitress wasn’t it, she was way too small. So with another slap on the ass, I tipped her an additional hundred and grinned, leaning back in the club chair.
“Thanks baby,” I drawled. “We’re good.”
And with another pout that instantly transformed into a smile, the woman nodded once again.
“Certainly sir, please let me know if I can get you anything else.” And with that, she walked off, hips swaying, still beckoning with her backside.
I leaned back into the chair, slouching, looking around now. Despite the public display, not one person was looking because that’s how it goes in the Billionaires Club. The women we source are here for our pleasure, they’ve signed on knowing exactly what their role is, and frankly, a couple of my brothers were getting it on with different girls, right here, right now. I could see William in the corner, a girl writhing and moaning in his lap, and Jake over by the door, lightly teasing his fingers between a stunning brunette’s legs. With a lascivious smile, he reached for a straw and I had a feeling where that was gonna go. Into her somewhere, it was just a question of which hole.
So yeah, we’re a fucked up group. We use women, we pay them for their time, sure, but essentially, we’re using female bodies, taking them for our pleasure and then sending them packing. It’s the biggest benefit of the Club, from my perspective. The ability to fuck a woman and then show her the door, no strings attached? No tearful goodbyes, no gifts of jewelry or cash to make the transition a little easier? Fuck yeah, the service was worth its weight in gold.
So with a satisfied grin, I turned back to Robert.
“What was it you were saying?” I grunted, leaning back, relaxed.
Robert just shook his head.
“A mofo as always,” he rumbled, “You’re in fine form Kane, fine form.”
I grinned once more. Because all of a sudden I was looking forward to the auction tonight. The scene with the waitress had been an aperitif, stoking the fires, and now I wanted more. I was ready, I didn’t have to look through that godforsaken catalogue, I was ready to see some grade A flesh, beautiful girls paraded out left and right … and fuck yeah, I was going to bid, buy, and win.
CHAPTER FOUR
Becky
The luxury on the private jet continued after we landed. I was ushered into a massive underground complex in Nevada, deep in the innards of the Earth.
“Um, are we still in the United States?” I asked my handler fearfully. A female bodyguard had met me at the plane, and she looked more like a bulldog than a human being.
“We are,” she grunted, leaving it at that, and I nodded imperceptibly, intimidated.
Because everything that’s happened has been incredible. I’m not sure what I expected exactly, but I guess I’d been thinking we’d be in a hotel somewhere? Maybe a big hotel with a grand ballroom, where people could mingle, where I could meet the billionaires before the auction started?
But instead, we took an elevator that rushed at a million miles an hour downwards, my ears popping as we descended, and when the door slid open, we were in a brightly lit white space, like a spa.
“Welcome to Prep!” said a chirpy blonde, dressed in a white apron. And I stepped forward, unsure.
“I’m Becky?” I murmured hesitantly. “Becky Wright. I mean, Rebecca,” I corrected hastily.
The woman nodded.
“I’m Pamela, here to get you through Prep. Come on, we don’t have much time,” she chirped once more, “If you’ll come this way please. Thank you Missy, that’ll be all.”
And I shot the female bulldog a surprised look. Her name was Missy? I’d expect something more along the lines of “Xena” or “Fang,” she was that scary looking
.
But the elevator doors hissed shut, and Xena disappeared, leaving me in the hands of Pamela the spa assistant. The bubbly blonde was already beckoning to me from across the room.
“Come on, come on!” she burbled. “We’re late, we’ve got to get you ready for tonight.”
I followed her with slow steps.
“But doesn’t the auction begin at nine tonight?” I asked hesitantly. “It’s only four now,” I said with a glance at my watch.
Pam turned to look at me with her hands on her hips, exasperated.
“It’s only four now, but look at you!” she exclaimed. “We need every minute, now come on,” she clucked, like a kind mother hen.
And my face flushed. I knew that I looked a little unkempt, there’d been no money to get a haircut for ages, and I’d been using packets of margarine from the cafeteria at school as lotion, we had nothing at home. As a result, I smelled a little … um, fragrant, should I say, although my skin was soft and supple, gleaming like a baby’s bottom.
“Sorry,” I muttered, chin dropping with shame. “I know the girls who come here must be so beautiful, and I’m nothing compared to them.”
Pam just shook her head.
“No it’s not that,” she clucked once more. “You’re just as beautiful as the rest, you just need a little work, that’s all. Now come on,” she said, gesturing to a huge spa-like tub. “Into the bath, tut tut.”
And from there on out, I was primped, pampered and pruned to within an inch of my life. Everything about me was buffed and polished until I was the best version of Becky I could be, curls gleaming, legs shaved, everything shaved until there was no hair anywhere on me but my head. Subtle make-up was applied by professionals and I was spritzed liberally with a delectable scent.
“Oof, what are you doing?” I asked the woman who was helping me. Because she’d aimed the spritzer right between my legs and was liberally blowing the stuff right onto my pussy. “I don’t need it there!” I exclaimed. “Just here and here,” I indicated pulse points on my wrists and behind my ears.
But the woman didn’t even reply, intent on her job. With narrowed eyes and another emphatic pump, she spritzed my pussy once more, lightly coating it in a delicious fragrance before dousing my boobs for good measure.
“You need it,” she said with a huff before marching out of the room. And I sat there stunned. I was dressed in nothing at the moment, my big white bath towel hanging on a peg on the door, and I’d just gotten huge doses of perfume on my private parts. What had the world come to? And more from nervousness more than anything else, I began to laugh, alone in the chamber. What the hell was going on? The last forty-eight hours had been incredible, a parade of insanity, and I was overloaded now, my circuits shorting. Like a hyena, I laughed hysterically, alone and naked in the white room, an inmate in an insane asylum. Holy shit, this took the cake. I’d been “glammed up” or whatever they like to call it these days, to be auctioned to a billionaire, and at this point, anything could happen. In fact, I expected it now. If the president himself showed up, I’d believe it. If they told me the world was flat and aliens had contacted Earth, I’d believe it. Because this was my life for the time being … and I was ready to be sold at this crazy place called the Billionaires Club.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kane
The auction was a let down, that’s the long and the short of it. I sat in my private booth, a console at my hands, staring into the chamber while the girls were paraded out. One by one they came, beautiful, nubile, young, and yet I couldn’t find it in myself to bid. Sure, my brothers went wild, lights flashing above each booth as prices were named. And each female was purchased after furious bidding wars, sometimes fifty or a hundred thousand dollars a pop.
But the thing is, none of the women were my type. Again, they were beautiful, nubile and young, which is good and all, but they were so fucking skinny. Even the one who’d been advertised as tonight’s special, whom Rob had assured me had tits out to here and an ass out to there, had been disappointingly small. She probably topped the scales at a hundred fifty, and I was looking for far more than that, I needed at least another thirty pounds, forty if I was lucky.
So I sat back in my chair, bored and disappointed. It was almost midnight, and the auction was coming to a close. They’d trotted out a dozen females at this point, and frankly, there couldn’t be much more to go. I leaned back, flipping randomly through various channels to see if there was anything to watch, CNN or maybe even a re-run of Seinfeld.
But then the voice came on once again.
“Gentleman,” a woman intoned neutrally. “We have a bonus tonight. We will be offering a special who was not included in this evening’s catalogue.”
I yawned. Whatever, probably just more of the same. But I glanced up for a moment, more out of boredom than anything. Sure enough, a girl was led into the circular room, swathed entirely in a blue cloak, a hood covering her face. And once she reached the circular dais, she paused momentarily, like she was hesitating. My attention was caught. Something about the way this female moved, even though she was swathed in dense fabric. Could it be? Could there be real flesh under there, acres of goodness?
And sure enough, when the cloak came off, the most beautiful girl was revealed. The brunette was stunning, curvy, voluptuous, like a Venus come to life, sailing in on a wave. Because this was the girl of my dreams. Sweet, sensuous brown eyes topped a pouty mouth, all of it complimenting enormous breasts that jiggled and wiggled, heaving up and down with her nervous breathing. A narrow waist flared into wide hips, set off by the sweetest vee in between, those pussy lips moist, flushed and beckoning. Because per sale procedures, the girl was being auctioned nude, and we could see everything she had to offer, all her assets on display, glowing under the lights, pert and delicious.
And every nerve in my body jolted to life. I literally jerked forward in my seat, eyes staring at the girl, devouring her like I could taste the female from my seat even though I sat behind a mirror-paned glass. Holy shit, the brunette was so beautiful, I had to get her, my dick jerked to life, hard as fuck, literally popping out from my waistband I was so horny and determined.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! My fingers tapped at the console furiously, entering numbers, furiously bidding. But the disembodied announcer’s voice rang out smoothly once again.
“Bidding has not yet started, we are in the viewing phase currently. Before you, please find Article Thirty. Rebecca hails from New York, New York. She stands five foot five, and boasts a ripe, womanly figure.”
I shook my head, infuriated. What the hell was wrong with this stupid console? It wasn’t taking my bids and merely sat there, unresponsive as the robotic voice slowly penetrated the fog of my brain. Oh right, bidding hadn’t started yet and I jerked to a halt. It was no good to be tapping out numbers, and I sat back in my seat, breathing heavily, broad chest rising and falling. Shit, I had to have her. She belonged to me.
But there was nothing to do until the bidding phase started, so I merely stared as the neutral female voice took Rebecca through her paces.
“Please turn to the right. Turn to the left,” the monotone commanded, and the girl on the stage obeyed. Brown eyes wide, flushed, she circled halfway in one direction, those huge jugs trembling, and then turned the other way, that sweet ass rolling with the motions of her thighs. Oh shit, he was so beautiful and I pulled my dick out and started stroking, this woman was sex come to life, I had to bury myself in that tight twat stat.
But my instincts had been right. There was something different about this girl. Every woman who’s sold at the Billionaires Club is hesitant at first. They’re told what’s going to happen but nothing can prepare you for the reality, and when it auction actually starts, a lot of them are nervous and trembling. After all, they’re alone in a small chamber, nude with bright lights on their bodies, and a dozen men looking at them from behind windowed panes, billionaires scrutinizing every inch of those delectable curves. So yeah, it can be an inti
midating experience.
But most girls get into it because acting sassy usually fetches a higher price. A full fifty percent of the final auction sum is paid to the girl herself, and that can be a huge amount. So yeah, keeping focused on the money, most girls begin shimmying, dancing a little, licking their fingers, their nipples, sashaying a bit, wiggling their hips to make the experience more fun, more alluring. And sure enough, the prices reflect it. Those girls that dance and shimmy usually end up getting more, they come out of it with their pockets stuffed full.
But in this case, the brunette wasn’t dancing. In fact, I would say that Rebecca was flat-out terrified, far beyond what was normal. Those big breasts heaved, but it wasn’t from excitement, it was from fear. And her cunt was running wetly, but it also shivered and quivered, like even her inner parts were afraid. The brunette wasn’t warming up at all, this woman was genuinely scared.
So I did the only thing that came to mind. Slowly, I flicked on a small lamp by the console so that she could see my face. The way two-way mirrors work is that there has to be utter darkness on one side to protect your identity. And by turning on the small light, I revealed myself to her, those brown eyes immediately darting to the flash of brightness, meeting my deep blue.
Stay calm, I told her mentally, face impassive. Stay calm, Daddy’s coming. And was it my imagination, but was there a flash of thanks, of gratitude in those caramel depths? Article Thirty’s chin continued to tremble, but she nodded slightly, acknowledging me, clinging to my powerful presence for strength.
And slowly, I nodded back, gesturing with my hand. Because despite the girl’s fear, I wanted to see everything. I wanted to see the culmination of this dirty scene, I wanted to see exactly what I was buying, what was on offer. I had to view Article Thirty everywhere, every inch of that delectable body, outside, inside, it belonged to me and the urge was a pound in my brain, a hard throbbing in my cock.
Serving Him Page 3
