And slowly, the girl did as I gestured. Because she turned around until her back was to me, and leaned forwards, her back flattening inch by inch until she grabbed her ankles, those sleek, sexy calves highlighted by silver heels on tiny feet.
But oh yeah, what I’d been looking for came into view. Because I wanted to see that twat. That’s right, it wasn’t enough to circle to the right and then circle to the left. I had to see the good stuff, I needed a visual of her private place, and sure enough, as she bent over, that steaming cunt came into view. With a slight mewl, the brunette parted her legs, shifting her thighs a little wider, and the pink opened slightly, fleshy lips engorged, her clit so big that it literally poked out from between her labia.
“Tonight’s product is a virgin,” the female invoice intoned from somewhere above. “Tonight’s special has never been touched. Article Thirty, please part your lips for the audience on my cue.”
The girl started then, back jerking slightly, ass bouncing. But that’s right. Like I said, the Billionaires Club is thorough, and we ask for absolutely everything a girl has to offer, there’s no holding back. So the woman’s command was actually completely standard. She was asking Rebecca to spread her pussy, to let buyers look straight up that twat and view her hymen for ourselves, to verify that the girl was a virgin.
And biting her lip, Becky obeyed. As the faceless woman’s voice droned on and on, the brunette reached one small hand between her thighs and slowly stroked upwards until she had a finger on each side of her puss. And then slowly, oh so slowly, she pulled that delectable flesh apart, baring her insides, showing us her all.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I lost it then, it was too fucking much for me, and I spurted heavily within the booth, releasing my cum, great gusts of virile white pouring from my dick. This woman was so beautiful, so gorgeous, and I couldn’t hold back. Because just as the brunette parted her lips, her eyes met mine in the darkness, that soft brown seizing me, forcing my body over the edge. And with a roar, a jerk of my hips, and a mighty spurt, I came all over the booth, dousing the console with my hot fuck. That’s right, I erupted all over the priceless computer equipment, custom-fitted for the Billionaires Club, blast after blast of hot white shooting from my dicktip, roars ringing in my ears as the girl slowly pulled that pussy apart, revealing her all.
And oh god, I couldn’t get enough, she was so beautiful. The inside of her cunt was a hot pink, the walls glistening and ruby red, pulsing wetly with lust. And she tipped forward a bit on those high heels, slightly unsteady, but it had the intended effect. Because way up in that delicious snatch, quivering just so, was her hymen. Oh yeah, my beautiful brunette had it, that piece of tissue was there, inside, buried deep, but it was there and absolutely intact. And as the camera zoomed in so that we could get a close-up, I erupted again, another series of hot white sperm erupting from my dick, relentless, fierce, splashing the booth in another coat of male virility.
But something went haywire then. Because still meeting my eyes, the girl blinked once, then twice, and it was like the world went into slow-mo. Even as my penis jerked and splashed, I watched with horror as Becky’s mouth opened slowly and then closed before her eyes drifted shut and the girl keeled over to one side, collapsing onto the ground. Holy shit, holy shit! What had happened?
In a flash, I was out of my booth and into the circular room, gathering the female in my arms. In the flesh, Rebecca was even more delectable than before, those huge boobs rising and falling rapidly, cunt lips still wet with desire. But the female was out cold, and judging from the bump on the back of her head, she was gonna be out of it for a while.
“Handlers, please assist Article Thirty,” came the woman’s voice neutrally even as lights flashed above frantically. “It appears Article Thirty has fainted.”
And as a crowd approached, I reared my head like a raging beast, snarling at the masked men padding towards us on all sides. Because these were the handlers, men dressed in black who escorted the goods about the premises, taking them to the baths, to the bar, to wherever they needed to be. But at this moment, nobody was touching Rebecca but me.
“Back the fuck off,” I snarled. “Back the fuck off.”
And seeing a giant alpha male crouched there, ready to fight for his female, was only too clear a signal. The masked men stepped away slowly, hands out indicating their intentions.
“Please sir,” said one. “I’m a medic, I can help.”
His soothing words penetrated the fog of my brain. My woman needed medical attention, and this man could provide it. So grudgingly, I let him near so that he could take her pulse, test her breathing.
“She’s fine,” he continued in a high voice. “Just out for the moment. She’ll be fine, just needs some water and rest.”
And with that, I swept the girl into my arms, lifting her high. Shit, Rebecca was so sweet, so round, and so curvy, that white flesh plastered against my chest, resting trustingly in my arms. But I shook my head. What the fuck was wrong with me? The woman was out like a light, she needed a doctor’s attention, and yet here I was lusting after an unconscious girl, my dick barely tucked back into my pants. Fuck, I’m a fucked up motherfucker.
So shaking my head, I growled once more.
“Take me to the medical bay,” I commanded, and with that, we exited the circular room, me with the girl in my arms, handlers trailing behind like puppies as I strode forcefully into the dark hallway towards assistance. Because Rebecca hadn’t been sold, the auction had been aborted … but I was going to own her just the same.
CHAPTER SIX
Rebecca
I shook my head, woozy and delirious. Where was I? Lights flickered fuzzily before me and I blinked hard, trying to focus. What had happened? Why was it so cold?
And suddenly, it all came rushing back. I sat up with a jolt and was immediately restrained. Holy shit, they’d tied me to a mattress of some sort, I was in a bright white room with all sorts of gleaming stainless steel equipment, bound like a prisoner in an insane asylum.
“Help!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the chamber. “Help, help!”
Immediately, a middle-aged woman bustled in, matronly in a spotless white nurse’s outfit.
“My, my, you’re a feisty one,” she remarked, looking down at the clipboard in her hand. “Rebecca, is it?”
I choked down a scream, panic barely under control.
“Please, let me go,” I panted. “Why am I tied up like this? Please.”
The woman shushed me soothingly, putting down the clipboard before moving to the bedside and undoing the restraints.
“We tied you down for this reason exactly,” she said kindly. “Because we were afraid you’d wake up with a jolt and hurt yourself, maybe even throwing yourself right out of the bed.”
I looked at her skeptically. The bed had rails, it would be pretty hard to catapult yourself over gleaming metal guards. But the woman shook her head again, clucking reassuringly.
“It looks hard, but people have done it,” she added wryly. “When patients go through a shocking experience, they often wake with a jolt and knock their heads, or knock something else important on a hard surface. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve found patients in a heap on the floor, and that’s bad news because in addition to your fragile mental state, you’ve wrenched your back or strained an ankle. Trust me, the restraints are for your own good.”
And breathing hard, I held still as she unbuckled me, loosely shaking my arms and legs as they buzzed back to life.
“Where am I?” I asked shakily, trying to get my bearings, looking around frantically. The room was nondescript, a gleaming white box filled with equipment, and I had no idea where we could be. “Where am I?” I demanded again.
The woman just shot me a look before sighing.
“At the medical bay, of course,” raising her eyebrows. “Where else?”
And suddenly it all made sense. Of course the Billionaires Club had its own mini-hospital. Money was no objec
t, so the Club probably had every medical advance at its fingertips, doctors and nurses on call, all sorts of controlled substances on premises. It was crazy what the Club offered, but that hardly mattered because now I was in deep ka-ka. I had to be. The auction whirled through my mind, the voice, the man, my aborted attempt at being sexy. Oh god, oh god. I’d gone up on stage, done everything the woman had commanded, and yet it’d all been a giant fail. Oh no, oh no. What was going to happen?
“Who are you?” I asked forcefully, fixing the nurse with a look. “Why am I here?”
The middle aged woman just clucked again.
“My, my, like I said, a feisty one,” she shook her head, checking some boxes on her clipboard. “I’m Nancy, and here, drink this, you’ll feel better.”
I peered into the cup she held out to me, suspicious.
“Just water,” she singsonged. “Nothing scary.”
And although I was still on edge, I accepted the water and drank in deep, long gulps. Ah, that hit the spot. I was so dehydrated and the cool liquid was like a waterfall rushing over my senses, refreshing and much-needed.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I pulled myself together. I’d aborted the auction, that was for sure. I’d been so scared, terrified the entire time, even as my body responded to the cues. Because despite the bright lights, the monotone voice directing me to turn left and turn right, I’d slowly been getting into it. I was afraid, sure, but knowing that there were men behind those windows, watching me, appraising the goods, turned me on in a way that was so wrong. It shouldn’t have, but my cunt juiced at the thought of male eyes all over my curves, sizing me up, taking in my breasts, my waist, hips and thighs.
But there was something, or rather someone, who’d provided a safe harbor, an anchor amidst the escalating terror. It was the big man. I’d been teetering on the brink of pure fear mixed with heady arousal when suddenly a small light had snapped on in one of the booths, revealing a dark man within, blue eyes piercing, seizing mine like a hawk.
And I could hardly breathe, he was so commanding. I couldn’t see the male clearly, but I could see dark hair and a strong jaw, all of it complementing a huge, muscular male form. Holy shit, he must have been twice as big as me, and I’m not a small girl at all.
But even more than the alpha’s physical presence was the utter air of charisma surrounding the man. Even through the glass window, even though I was completely nude in front of a dozen men, suddenly the world narrowed to just me and him. Suddenly, as terrified as I was, I could do it. I could dance for this man, I could show him my all. And when he gestured, I knew instinctively what he wanted and obeyed immediately. Turning around, I parted my legs and bent over, pink parts on display, glistening wetly, all for him. Oh god, I was such a slut, revealing my most private places to a man I didn’t even know, pulling myself wide for his gaze, allowing him to look deep inside my pussy.
And yet it felt so right. Because as the hot lights caressed my skin, I looked through my legs and met that electric blue gaze once more, and the effect was immediate. My pussy pulsed at the contact like it could feel his hands, and my cunt gushed slightly, a sudden fall of wetness coursing from my hole. I panted, boobs heaving. Oh god, it was so right, all of this was so right, the illicitness, the way the man devoured me, his wrist moving up and down within his booth. He had to be. He had to be stroking himself as I displayed myself, as I showed him my private bits, dancing seductively all for him.
But then it all went haywire. Everything got flushed down the tubes, and I groaned internally, shamefaced and desperate. What the hell is wrong with you Rebecca? I screamed at myself. What the hell? Because sure, the handlers had told me during prep that I’d be in a small chamber, the billionaires seated behind one-way windows. And they’d told me that there would be cameras, recording my every move, tracing over my curves so that the billionaires could watch on their own personal consoles, even zoom in and out as they chose.
But nobody told me that when I bent over, a camera would zoom in behind my ass and stick its telephoto right up to my puss. No one told me that as I pulled my cunt lips open, that the camera would whir and hover like a giant mosquito, and focus its glaring eye onto my twat, homing in my hymen. And the incredible fact was that I hadn’t even realized it was happening at first, I was so lost in the encounter with my dark billionaire, waves of sensation pulsing through my body, our eye contact electric. But soon enough, the zooming and whirring penetrated my fog, and that’s when it happened. Shocked, my heart stopped beating for a moment, the room suddenly hot and small. The world tilted and jerked, and suddenly I collapsed in a heap on the dais. Yep, right there under the bright lights, with all eyes fixed on me, Becky Wright did what she always does and clumsily made a mess of things, just like always. And to make it worse, it was all caught on camera to boot, for posterity’s sake.
So I squirmed in the hospital bed, face flushing. Oh my god, oh my god, what had happened after that? I had a vague memory of strong arms, of a broad chest, of the dark man lifting me up and cuddling my form against his chest. His voice had been a growl, a deep, soothing rumble and I’d let go once more, drifting in a hazy sea, feeling safe, warm and comforted. The alpha male would take care of me, and my mind relaxed then, the gray haze becoming complete.
But now, in the hospital room, the events came rushing back and I hung my head, half in panic, half in embarrassment. Because I was in deep shit. The Club had hired me for an auction and I hadn’t held up my part of the bargain. Instead, like a sissy, I’d collapsed and the whole thing was aborted, the sale called off. Face flaming, my shoulders quaked as I contemplated my options, the branches of the decision tree. Because what was going to happen? I needed money and the Club had advanced me a huge sum. Sure, they’d said I didn’t need to pay it back, but no one had counted on this happening. What if they wanted the money back now? How would I ever come up with such a huge sum? Nana and Mattie had probably already spent some of cash on food, I was going to have to beg, to plead, to do anything to make it up to the people in charge.
And at that moment, the door swung open and a middle-aged man came in, rimless glasses on a pointy nose, also holding a clipboard.
“Thank you Nancy,” he said, nodding at the nurse. “Could I get a minute with Rebecca?”
The nurse nodded, stepping out.
“She’s feisty!” Nancy warned. “She’s a feisty one.”
But as the small man looked at me, I shriveled inside. I certainly didn’t feel feisty despite the warning.
“Hi,” I said tentatively. “I’m Rebecca. And you are …?”
The man looked at me over his glasses, mouth pursing unattractively.
“My name is Tom, I’m in charge of auction operations here.”
I bit my lip.
“So you work for the Club,” I said.
He nodded frostily.
“That’s right, I’m an employee. Full-time,” he sniffed, like that made a difference. “And last night’s performance was quite the spectacle. We’ve never had that happen before.”
I wanted to scream and shout, to protest that no one had told me about the giant hovering camera just inches from my twat. But I bit my lip. I needed to get on Tom’s good side, to beg for another chance, to do something so that I could stay here and make money.
“Please,” I began tentatively. “It was just so hot, and I wasn’t prepared, I just …”
Tom cut me off.
“You weren’t prepared?” he asked, pinning me with an ice cold look. “My records indicate that you arrived at four and the auction wasn’t until nine. That entire time was spent in Prep,” he said, checking his clipboard.
I nodded furiously.
“Yes, yes, and the girls in Prep were very kind, they told me what would happen, but I wasn’t sure about the cameras …” My voice trailed off.
Tom threw his head back and guffawed loudly, disbelieving.
“They didn’t tell you about the cameras? About the fact that you’d be recorded?�
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“No they told me about that,” I protested, twisting uncomfortably in the hospital bed, “but I didn’t realize there’d be cameras zooming all over, coming in close with telephoto lenses and all. I didn’t realize,” I said again, voice trailing off in a whisper.
But Tom just shook his head disgustedly.
“I don’t know what you think cameras look like, but the ones we use are standard-issue. You know, black with buttons on them, a lens to take your picture,” he said dryly.
“I know!” I protested, squirming again. “It’s just, I didn’t think it would be so personal,” I said in a whisper once more. “I dunno, I guess I was expecting …”
“Expecting what?” he prompted skeptically.
And I didn’t have an answer.
“I-I’m not sure,” I stammered. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure.”
He harrumphed at that.
“That’s right, it was exactly what you expected, it was exactly what we prepared you for. And you flubbed it. We had to call off the auction. Can you imagine how this reflects on me, on the girls in Prep, on the handlers who worked so hard to help you prepare? This is fucking disaster,” he said disgustedly. “We’ve had dozens of girls come through and not one has ever fainted. Not one has let us down the way you did.”
I sat up straight again, eyes wide, begging and pleading.
“Please sir,” I said, gesturing desperately with my hands. “Could I get another chance?” I rushed. “I’m happy to go up for auction again, I’m sure I’ll do better next time, I’m sure I can do it, I’ll practice,” I promised. “I’ll find some cameras and practice with them, I can do it, I’m sure,” I rushed again.
But the man shook his head disgustedly.
“Who says you’re going to get a second chance?” he snorted. “Who says the Billionaires Club likes sloppy seconds?”
That made me draw up short, mouth clamping shut. Oh shit, oh shit. If I didn’t get a second chance, then where did that leave me? I had no options, I had to make money somehow and auctioning myself was the only way I knew. What if I couldn’t go up again? What would happen?
Serving Him Page 4
