by Opal Carew
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Dana stared at the letter in her hand, all the blood rushing from her face. Her fingers began to tremble and the paper nearly slipped from her grip.
She sank down in the chair.
“Hey, what’s up?” her roommate Elli asked, as she walked past and slumped on the couch across from her. “You’re white as a ghost.”
“I … uh…” Dana glanced up at the slim, tall blonde who shared the small, two-bedroom apartment with her. It was a bit dumpy, but it was only a ten-minute walk from the university. “It’s from my mom.”
“Oh? What does the bitch have to say?”
Dana cringed a bit at the way Elli referred to her mom, feeling disloyal to her family for not sticking up for her, but at this precise moment, she didn’t really feel like defending her mother. And Elli was only going on the incidents she’d witnessed.
“She…” Dana sucked in a deep breath. “She says I’m cut off.”
“Cut off? You mean¸ she won’t be giving you any more money toward your education?”
Dana shook her head. “She thinks it’s a waste of money and time for me to go for my Masters. She thinks I should go out and get a real job, and learn to stand on my own two feet. She won’t even co-sign on another student loan.”
Which was wholly unfair. Every time Mom had driven away another man, Dana had been there to pick up the pieces. To get her off the bottle and back on her feet so she could cope with the world again. Dana always had to be the adult, while Mom would wallow in her misery.
Dana gazed at Elli, her chest compressed under the weight of her crushed dreams. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmured helplessly.
Elli pursed her lips. “I think I have an idea, but promise me you’ll keep an open mind, because it’s a little bit crazy.”
* * *
Dana stepped off the elevator of the big office building. Elli had accompanied her on the bus, as much to make sure she actually went through with it as to provide moral support. Now Elli waited in the lobby while Dana went to meet the photographer.
She’d filled out the forms on-line, knowing she could back out if she wanted to. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this—sell her virginity to a billionaire willing to pay top dollar. But it made sense from a practical standpoint. She’d secretly wanted to get rid of her virginity since starting college, because everyone she told about it treated her like a freak. Rather than shed it at some lame party with a drunk college boy, why not get the money she desperately needed and lose her virginity at the same time? She wouldn’t think too hard about the implications.
She opened the glass door and walked into a lavish reception area. On the walls were photographs. All portraits.
“May I help you?” the receptionist behind a high wood-and-glass desk asked.
“I have an appointment at two p.m.”
“Miss Reynolds?”
Dana nodded.
The receptionist smiled. “Just take a seat.”
Instead of sitting, Dana walked to the wall and glanced at the photographs. They were exceptional. The first several were stunning portraits of young women. Dana walked along, admiring each one. Then she came to one of a man.
He wore a suit and watched her with confident eyes, sending goose bumps along her spine. Was this one of the men who might…? She sucked in a breath, then gazed at the next photo, then the next. Every one of these men gave off an aura of incredible power and confidence.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Oh, God, could she really do this?
The sight of all these handsome, intriguing men had her certain she wanted to try.
Why did these men do it? Surely with their looks, money, and confidence they could have any woman they wanted. But that was another part she didn’t want to think about too much. They were willing to pay, and that’s what she needed.
“Are you ready for us to take your portrait for the site?”
She stood up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * *
“Is there anything else, sir?”
Mason glanced up from his paper to see Sylvie curtsying in front of him. She would be leaving very soon, so this was one last opportunity for her to take care of his needsleft. And hers.
The short, black uniform with the white lace apron and trim showed off her assets quite nicely. The full skirt was so short there was bare thigh showing above the fishnet stockings, held up by black garters adorned with white satin bows. Her long slender legs looked even longer in the black patent stiletto heels she wore.
It was a totally impractical outfit for a maid. But for a sub, it was perfect.
She stood waiting for his answer. He set his paper aside, considering the question. He could order her to do anything he wanted and she would do it. That was any man’s dream, but he’d just spent the entire weekend commanding and controlling and, right now, he just wanted it to be easy.
He leaned back in his chair. “Yes, Sylvie. I’d like to come one more time.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. And may I ask…?”
“Yes, Sylvie. You can come, too.”
She curtsied again. “Thank you, sir.”
She reached behind herself and unzipped her costume, then dropped it to the floor. She wore very brief panties and a demi-bra that lifted her breasts while fully exposing her nipples. He expected her to kneel in front of him and take his flaccid cock from his pants, warm it up with her mouth, then climb on his lap and ride him, but instead she flicked her nipples with her fingers until they were hard and pouting. His cock stirred. Then she tucked her fingers into her panties and he watched the fabric move as she stimulated herself.
Even though his cock rose, he found his mind was wandering. What would he have for dinner once Sylvie was gone? The cook was off until tomorrow but had left him several choices. He ran through the menu options until Sylvie’s moans drew his attention, and he focused on her rosy cheeks, noting that she was getting close.
“Sylvie, do not come until I say so.”
She moaned again. “But I’m so close, sir.”
He clapped his hands and she instantly drew her hand from her panties.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Then she turned and scurried away.
He knew she’d done it on purpose. She knew when she protested, it meant punishment. She returned with a wooden paddle and handed it to him. He patted his lap and she stretched over it, her sweet ass pushed upward over his thighs.
He raised his hand and smacked her cheeks with the paddle. She cried out. But he knew she wanted more. He struck her again. Her skin blushed red. He kept on paddling her—lightly at first, then harder.
He preferred to spank a woman’s round behind with his bare hand, but Sylvie liked the paddle. Lily, on the other hand—one of his other subs—loved it when he smacked her bare bottom, then stroked his palm over it.
Sylvie’s moans increased—he’d barely been aware of them until now. He
rested the paddle on her bare, red ass and waited.
“Oh, please, sir. Don’t stop.”
He raised the paddle and began smacking in short, quick strokes. Her moans increased, becoming more intense.
“Oh. Sir. Please,” she said between smacks. “May. I.” She moaned again. “Come?”
“Yes, Sylvie.” He kept paddling. “You may.”
She arched against his hand. He stopped paddling and stroked between her intimate folds, as he knew she liked at this point. She was dripping wet and as he slid his fingers inside, her muscles gripped them tightly.
Soon her wails filled the sizeable room, echoing off the walls. His cock twitched with need.
He kept stimulating her, keeping her orgasm going on and on.
Finally, her moans subsided and she slumped on his lap. After a moment, she stood up and curtsied again.
“Thank you, sir.”
Then she knelt in front of him. She unzipped him and within moments, her warm lips surrounded his cockhead. Fuck, she was the only one of his subs who could take his whole length down her throat without gagging. He closed his eyes as she bobbed up and down, keeping him warm and stimulated in her hot mouth.
His mind wandered back to when Lily had sucked him off last weekend. She had a tongue piercing which added a little extra something. All his subs had their own idiosyncrasies. Lily loved to struggle against him, pretending he was taking her against her will. That still excited him. One of the few things that still did.
He typically had three or four regular subs at a time. He would spend the weekend with one, or sometimes two of them. They all knew about each other. When he got bored, he would bring someone new into the mix. It took time to train a sub, so he didn’t have short-term relationships with women. In a Dom-sub relationship, it took time to get to know each other’s wants and needs. It was an investment of time and energy.
The problem was, he was getting bored with his current subs. All of them. But he didn’t have the interest to take on training a new sub.
Sylvie sucked hard and his cock lurched. He cupped her head and guided her forward and back. His body was demanding his attention as his cock throbbed inside her mouth.
Then Sylvie drew back, exposing his cock to the cool air. He groaned.
She smiled, clearly sensing she’d lost his attention and glad to have it back. She stripped off her panties and handed him the paddle again, then leaned over, offering her bare, red ass to him. He smacked her bottom a couple of times with the paddle and she moaned. Then she positioned herself over him. He groaned again when her hot opening pressed against him. She lowered herself onto him, her tight passage swallowing his cock inside its hot, velvety depths.
She leaned forward and kissed him, a light brush of lips, then she started moving on him. Driving his cock into her body again and again.
He gripped her hips, guiding her into a rhythm that felt good, his cock pulsing with need inside her hot core.
Heat swelled within him and he drove her body up and down faster as his engorged cock throbbed. She moaned in pleasure, and he realized she was coming again. He groaned and his cock erupted inside her.
He collapsed in the chair, spent. She leaned against him, then nuzzled his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. She was sweet and sexy, and she’d just spent the entire weekend pleasuring him. As he had her.
But now he was just anxious for her to go.
He was bored.
* * *
Mason sat in the leather chair at the desk in his den and opened his browser. He reviewed his e-mail and added a few things to his calendar, then sighed and glanced at the clock. His dinner would be in the oven for another fifteen minutes.
A chat window popped up. It was a message from his friend Guy.
Hey, your SL gone home already?
Guy called Mason’s subs “sluts”—in fact, he called the women he himself spent time with “sluts,” too—but he knew Mason wouldn’t put up with it, so he called them “SLs,” which he said was short for “slave,” but Mason knew he was just yanking his chain.
Yeah, Mason replied. He didn’t feel very talkative.
So, all alone in your big house. Bored, yeah? You really should look into that service I was telling you about. FYI, they just got a new batch of SLs. Or should I say, SL-wannabes. ☺
Then a link appeared in the chat window.
Guy knew Mason had been bored lately and told him he needed to shake things up sexually. Then he’d told him about this service that allowed young women to essentially sell their virginity to wealthy man for a hefty sum of money. The fee was fifty grand. The guys who frequented the site could drop that amount without batting an eye and some justified it by saying it was doing a great service because most of these young women were college students who used the money to pay for their education. In fact, it had been dubbed “The Scholarship Fund” by the men who used it.
Guy had closed his chat session, but Mason found himself staring at the link.
He had absolutely no interest in deflowering some virgin, but he couldn’t help wondering what kind of women would allow themselves to get involved in this kind of thing. Why did they resort to selling their bodies? Didn’t they have parents who could help them? Were they too lazy or inept to earn the money on their own?
He found himself clicking on the link.
A black screen opened, displaying a simple insignia with a lone field underneath, requesting that he enter a code. Guy had told him that one had to be registered to enter the site. And Guy had paid the thousand dollars to register him as a birthday present last month.
Mason entered the username Guy had given him. BoredDom.
A new page displayed. He selected the page that talked about the types of women available through the service. It gave a pitch about how wholesome and safe they were, how enthusiastic the young women were to have this opportunity, and generally made the whole thing sound like a bunch of Girl Scouts wanting to sell cookies to help the poor.
He clicked on the link that would allow him to view the women currently available. He wondered if the women would be naked or in seductive poses. When the page came up, it offered various selection criteria based on physical appearance, age, education level, et cetera. He just clicked on “New Arrivals.”
A new page opened and he stared at a list with pictures on the left and brief bios on the right. The four photos visible on the page were all of quite lovely-looking young women gazing at him with bright smiles, wearing normal street clothes, sitting in chairs with their hands folded in their laps.
The photographer was excellent because he had somehow managed to capture a distinct personality in each of them. They were all posed the same way, and they all smiled, but the first one clearly had an impish side. Maybe it was the way her lips turned up that gave that impression, or the glint in her eyes. The second seemed more timid. The third, he sensed would have a fiery temper, even though her hair was golden blonde rather than red.
He scanned down the page, viewing each smiling face. The timer on his phone sounded, indicating that his dinner was ready. He glided his cursor up to close the window when his eye caught on one of the smiling faces.
He frowned, then stared at the familiar smile and wide, innocent eyes. But he must be mistaken. He clicked on the link labeled “Details” and a larger picture of the woman appeared. His stomach clenched. Fuck, it was her. He glanced at the name to confirm.
Fuck, what the hell was Dana doing on a site like this?
* * *
Dana stepped out of the lecture hall and followed the flow of students out the front door. Elli was waiting for her outside at one of the picnic tables on the grass. Dana sat down beside her. They were going to meet some of their friends, then head out for a coffee.
“So how’d you do on your Psych paper?” Elli asked.
“Okay. I got an A-minus.”
Elli laughed. “Most people would say that was great, not just okay.” Elli wrapped her arm arou
nd Dana and hugged her close. “But that’s okay. I love you despite the fact you’re a brainiac.”
Dana laughed. “Thanks. I love you despite the fact that you’re a jerk,” she said with a playful wink.
Dana’s phone plinked and she pulled it from the pouch on her backpack. She glanced at the text.
“Trinity says she’s going to be a bit late.”
Elli laughed. “What else is new?”
Dana opened her e-mail to check her messages. There were a couple, but the sight of the last one caused her chest to constrict.
It was from the service. She opened it and her heart stalled.
“What’s going on?” Elli asked. “You just went white as a ghost.”
“I … uh…” She glanced up at Elli. “They got back to me.”
“Who?” Then Elli’s eyes widened. “Oh, you mean…” Then she grinned. “Hey, that’s great. So you have a taker?”
Dana nodded, numbness creeping through her.
Then she sucked in a breath and started shaking her head.
“I can’t do this.” Dana stared at the e-mail, butterflies having a rave in her stomach. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Are you kidding?” Elli said. “Fifty grand and you’re set. That’ll cover tuition and living expenses, right? What’s your other option, Dana? Drop out and work a minimum wage job for the rest of your life?”
She glanced at Elli as if pulled out of a dream. “No, of course not. It’s just that I need more than that, so this doesn’t really solve my problem.” She frowned. “And with a Masters in French Poetry, I might wind up working for minimum wage anyway.”
Unless she managed to become a professor, though she knew that wouldn’t be easy. But it was her dream and she’d decided long ago to follow her dreams with tenacity. After all, no one else was going to look after her happiness. It all depended on her.
“All the more reason for you to do it. It does solve a big part of your problem. Then maybe you can get a job for the rest.”
Dana fiddled with the plastic cover on her latte. “I don’t know. I’m not sure the visa allows that.”
