by Abby Angel
“Oh. Ohhhh…” He’s reading and his soft-on is quickly turning into a hard-on. “Oh, I think we can make that happen.”
Ohhhhh yeeeaaaahhhhhh…
Victor
I shake Michael’s hand as we sit down together to discuss the details. He shakes Vivian’s too, and then we get down to business. “I understand that you guys have questions on how this will work,” Michael says, looking at me and then Vivian.
A couple of days ago, Kitten had come to me in a panic. She just didn’t think she could agree to be sold off to a random stranger to be owned for 60 days, no matter how much money she would get out of it in the end. I’d talked it over with Apollo, and we’d decided that Apollo would just purchase her. After all, he was rich enough that if he set a stack of twenties on fire every day, it wouldn’t make a dent in his fortune. He’d said that I’d done my part by training her how to be a sex slave and that I couldn’t be expected to pay for her, too.
Truth be told, I wanted to buy her, but I couldn’t tell Apollo that. I wasn’t ready to. I was just supposed to train her; I wasn’t supposed to get attached to her. I’m the one who fucked this up. I can’t screw it up anymore.
Apollo will buy her at auction, she’ll have the money to restart her life, and everyone will be happy.
Everyone.
Especially me.
“So, what happens if I do get bought, and also, what happens if I don’t?” Kitten blurts out.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling. That did seem to cover all the bases.
“If your virginity gets purchased, you are contractually obligated to spend 60 days as that person’s sex slave. They cannot do anything that would cause permanent damage or anything against your will, and they have to let you go at the end of the 60 days. If you’d like to set up a separate arrangement outside of that, that is between you and the buyer. Only the first 60 days is covered under your Virgin Market contract.”
“And if I don’t sell?” Vivian asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. I want to reach out and take her hand and soothe her fears away, but I don’t dare. She’s not mine to soothe, and this conversation should be the perfect reminder of that.
It was Viv who wanted to meet with Michael. No matter how many times I assured her that Apollo would buy her and that we were simply using the Virgin Market to do this transfer of money in the easiest way possible, she has still been worried about the what-ifs.
Then again, who am I to say that she shouldn’t worry? I’m not the one who has to go up on stage in front of strangers in a sex auction and just hope that my sister’s friend’s fiancé will pay $1.5 million dollars for me.
“If you don’t sell, you’ll become the property of the Virgin Market for two months,” Michael says bluntly. I cringe. a) That’s not exactly awesome news, and b) Doesn’t the man know how to give less-than-ideal news to people? Whacking them over the head with bluntness? Not exactly what I would’ve gone for.
“I what?!” Vivian gasps, staring at him. “Wha…why? Why don’t I just go home?”
“That’s not part of the deal. If you want our services, this is how we do it. If your virginity doesn’t sell on the auction block, then we, the Virgin Market, own you for two months. We have to follow all the same rules as any person who buys sex slaves from us – we cannot do anything that would cause permanent damage or anything against your will, and we have to let you go at the end of the 60 days.”
She’s just staring at him, and even from here, I can see the panic rising up in her.
“You’ve already signed the paperwork, the day you came in to set up the Cayman Island bank account,” he reminds her, not unkindly. “At this point, if you back out, we can and will sue you in court. And we will win. Our contracts have been tested again and again in the courts. Cold feet is not an acceptable reason to break them.
“But don’t worry – you won’t regret this. Most women report that having their virginity sold was the best thing they’d ever done for themselves. It gets you started off in life in a way most people only dream about.
“Now, if you two don’t mind, I do have quite a bit of paperwork to finish up. Anything else I can do for you?”
Vivian mutely shakes her head, and we leave after another round of hand shaking.
“Viv, don’t forget – Apollo will be there on Friday to buy you,” I reassure her. “He knows what is on the line. This is nothing more than a way to transfer the money. Apollo is a good guy – I know he’ll follow through.”
She numbly nods her head. “Okay,” she whispers. “I can do this. I know I can.”
The hardest part of all for me? Letting someone else bid on her, even if that someone is Apollo. But even if I fessed up and told everyone that I wanted her for myself, it’s now too late for that anyway. Michael’s made it clear that because I was involved in setting all of this up, I can’t also be the one who purchases her. Apparently, that smacks of coercion to them. Which is why we’ve never mentioned Apollo in front of any of the employees of the Market.
No, it’ll all work out for the best. I just have to trust in that.
And learn how to let her go.
Vivian
That evening over dinner, just him and I at home at his rarely used dining room table, it’s quiet, only the scraping of the silverware on the plates and the occasional comment about the delicious food.
It’s take-out, of course – I’ve grown to learn to like baking, but cooking a meal is a totally different thing. There are too many moving parts for me to master. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to make Peking roasted duck, Victor’s favorite dish from…
No. I can’t. I won’t be here. I have to reconcile myself to that fact.
I stare down at my flavorful noodles, hot and spicy and oh-so-tasty, and wonder why I can’t taste a damn thing tonight. Normally this dish sets my mouth on fire in a wonderful way. Tonight, I might as well be chewing ash.
“You don’t have to,” Victor blurts out.
I look up at him, searching his gaze in the candlelight. I want to believe him, I truly do, but that isn’t what Michael Anders said. He was so clear on that topic…
“Truly.” Victor reaches out and clasps my hand in his, stroking and squeezing it, his eyes burning with…what? Passion? Desire? Love? I can’t tell. I suddenly wish I’d thought to light more candles earlier, when setting up this dinner. Maybe if there were a hundred candles in here, I could see what Victor truly thought of me.
I could see if he loves me.
“I have to, Victor, you know that. Michael was very clear on that—”
“I can hire the best lawyers! I can get you out of that contract. Oh, I could hire you at my firm! I can always use someone with marketing smarts who can help me push my latest app to my target demographics. You’re smart and funny and gorgeous and—”
“And I need to do this. This money will help me start my life anew,” I break in gently. “I will owe Apollo a debt I can never repay, and I will have that hanging over me for the rest of my life. But at least I will have choices in what I do, and where I do it. This will give me freedom.”
He cups his hand up against my cheek and strokes it, staring at me through the flickering candlelight.
“Okay,” he says softly. “I will support you. I will be there for you every step of the way.”
I turn my face and drop a kiss into the palm of his hand. “Thank you. Thank you for everyth—” My throat is closing up with unshed tears and I’m hating myself, hating myself for letting myself fall in love with the one man I shouldn’t have, the one man I knew all along I could never have, and now, I have to live my life without him and…
I push my chair back, the scraping on the hand-carved maple wood floors loud and awful in the silence. “I’m going to go to bed early tonight,” I mumble. “Got to get lots of rest for the big day tomorrow.”
And I run to my bedroom and I fall into my bed and I worry. I worry, staring up at the darkened ceiling, with shadows and l
ights dancing over it from the world outside, that tomorrow, something bad will happen. I know that Apollo is supposed to buy me. I know that it’s all just a straightforward transaction, and that even if Apollo had wanted me as his sex slave, Ashley would allow that like she’d allow a hole in her head. I have nothing to fear with tomorrow’s auction.
So why do the words, “She’d belong to the Virgin Market” roll endlessly around in my head? I can’t push the worry away that something will go wrong. I’m not normally someone who believes that people can sense what will happen in the future, but tonight, with the dread curling in my stomach, it’s all I can focus on.
I awake in the darkness and realize that Victor is picking me up and carrying me to his bedroom and I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep but having his strong arms around me, carrying me…it’s heaven. And hell. Because this is the last time. I just know it. And my tears dampen his chest and he lays me down in bed, gently stroking my hair away from my face and kissing his way down my body and whispering sweet words that say it all and yet nothing and even as I feel my need for him build inside of me, I can’t stop the endless roll of tears down my face.
Victor
I push the front door open to an inconspicuous warehouse, like dozens of others in the area, except perhaps it’s a little nicer. No graffiti decorates its front façade; no broken windows stare out into the street like soulless eyes. But these few “bonuses” aside, it’s nothing more than a giant red brick building with a crumbling mural on its side, proclaiming the virtues of Coca-Cola and a few hanging lights, swaying in the cool New York air.
Inside though, it’s a lavish affair, with velvet curtains and intricate columns, with gilded mirrors on every vertical surface. I know the Virgin Market does that on purpose; by keeping a low profile outside, they can keep from garnering unwanted attention from the local police and the local thugs alike. They also grease the palms of a few of the men in blue to keep a close eye on the building.
I never should have mentioned the Virgin Market that night at the club. It had been a casual thought, a funny idea, a suggestion I never expected anyone to take seriously. And yet, here we are, two weeks later, ready to auction her off to the highest bidder.
Which damn well better be Apollo. Where the fuck is he, anyway? I pull out my cell phone and check for messages. Nothing. The auction is going to start in 20 minutes. He needs to get his ass down here. I unlock my phone and quickly begin tapping in a message. Where are you? We’re about to start.
They’d come and picked up Kitten early this morning to get her ready for today’s auction. She’d walked out the door with them, never looking back, not pleading with me to save her but instead going to her fate without question.
I didn’t know what they needed to ready her for. Don’t they know she’s gorgeous all the time? When she wakes up in the morning, her hair mussed and her eyes sleepy and happy; when I carry her to bed at night, ready to fuck her until she screams.
Never in her pussy, though. Oh, how I’ve wanted it. Oh, how I’ve been tempted to take her and show her every position a master can take with his slave. Torture, pure torture to stay away.
Finally, my phone buzzes, interrupting my thoughts. Held up at JFK. Won’t get there in time. Plane landed late. Bid for me. Will pay you back.
I stare down at my phone in horror, my stomach dropping to my knees. No, no, no, no! Apollo had been in Germany for business for the last three days and we’d known it would be a close one for him to get back in time, but I’d somehow just assumed he’d make it happen anyway. He’s not one to let anything stand in his way.
But he also doesn’t know that I can’t bid on her. Michael had been very, very clear on that topic.
Panic flushes through me and I begin calculating in my head who I can call. Which friend of mine is close enough to make it here on time to do the bidding, and will do it without asking any questions?
Except even as I begin flipping through my contacts, frantically trying to find someone, I realize that a) The Virgin Market would never allow it. They have to do extensive health, financial, and criminal background checks on all men who bid on the virgins. Since this is a completely voluntary process, they only get more virgins willing to put their bodies up for auction by pleasing past women who’ve gone through the process. If any woman was mistreated, that would quickly get around and they’d lose future sales. They always protect the women, which is how they’ve stayed in business.
And even if all of that wasn’t true, b) The house lights just turned down, indicating the bidding is about to start.
Fuuuuuccccckkkk…
I slowly make my way to an open seat, looking around the audience at the people present. I saw quite a few men and even a couple of women, which I found surprising / not surprising. I guess that women can want a virgin just as much as a man, right?
The stage lights come up and completely distasteful music swells through the air and I feel nausea begin to build in my throat. Kitten is about to walk on stage, believing that Apollo will be here to bid on her and save her and he won’t be and I can’t and I don’t know what the fuck to do.
And then she does. With two other women, she comes walking on stage in a white dress so tight, I’m surprised she can breathe in it. They’ve framed her face with tendrils and curls, and that combined with her makeup, she looks like an angel come to earth. I know that this is the schtick – this is what they do, how they get people to bid such high prices for these virgins – but still, my gut twists inside of me, because in so many ways, Vivian is innocent. She went into this trusting that I would follow through on my end of the bargain; that Apollo would be here.
And now he’s not.
And the bidding is about to begin.
Vivian
I walk out onto the stage, the bright lights blinding me as we line up across it like contestants in the Miss USA Pageant.
Breathe. Just breathe. Apollo is going bid for you and you are going to be just fine.
I haven’t been able to shake my paranoia from last night; no matter how many times I assure myself that everything will work out just as it’s supposed to, I can’t rid myself of the dread in the pit of my stomach.
We smile blandly out into audience, just as we were instructed to do that morning as we’d rehearsed for the big moment. Except as my eyes adjusted to the lighting and I could scan the audience, I saw Victor…but no Apollo? The seat next to him is empty. I scan the rest of the room, frantically trying to think of a reason why Victor and Apollo wouldn’t be sitting together and finding none and not finding him either and my eyes flick back to Victor, silently trying to ask him what is going on, tamping down the panic welling inside of me.
It’s going to be fine. He’s just a little late. Nothing more than that.
One of the women, Janey, gets auctioned off, and I watch in horrified fascination as she is claimed by a man older than my dad. We aren’t allowed to choose who picks us – that rather defeats the purpose of an auction – so whatever her thoughts were on being bought by a man who could be her father, she swallows them and follows him off stage.
The applause dies down, and then it’s my turn. My eyes are scanning the room – still no sign of Apollo. How? Where? They have me walk back and forth across the stage, pointing out my features as I go, making me feel for all the world like a brood mare. Who wants their stats read out like they’re a living version of a Barbie doll?
Then the bidding begins and Apollo isn’t here and quickly a man in the back dominates the bidding, jumping the bid upwards each time by $20,000 or $30,000, instead of by $5000 increments like everyone else. He’s doing it to prove that he’s willing to pay whatever price he has to, in order to buy me, and I know that his intimidation tactic is working because other people are quickly dropping out, not willing to pay outrageous prices for just one girl.
I try to see his face in the dark and I don’t know if it’s because it is dark or intimidating or my nerves but he looks scary as fuck t
o me. In the darkness of the warehouse, he looks like the devil and Al Capone all wrapped up into one. He’s probably going to buy me and kill me and chop me into pieces and shove me into his chest freezer and…
“Going once, going twice—” the auctioneer says.
“Stop!” Victor calls out, and a murmur flows through the crowd. He hurries up the aisle towards me, and I can’t breathe and my legs are shaking so hard I fear I’m going to fall down and make a fool out of myself and he jumps up on stage, placing his arm around me, holding me up.
Security is swarming the stage but Michael tells them to hold off. He probably doesn’t want to piss off a billionaire like Victor. All I know is, I can lean against Victor, meld into his side, and smell his delicious cologne and for just a moment, pretend that all will be well with the world.
“I want to buy this woman,” Victor declares, holding me tight against his side.
“Where is Apollo?” I ask him urgently under my breath.
“He’s still at JFK. He won’t get here in time,” Victor mutters quietly.
Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
And yet, despite the panic welling up in me at his words, I can’t help but think that it’s going to be okay. Victor is the one I wanted anyway, and he’s here for me and surely, they will let him buy me, right? Right?
“Victor, you know you can’t buy her,” Michael says in a fake patient voice. “We’ve already gone over this.”
“But I love her.”
The words echo around the room, the gasps echoing too, and I fully let myself sink into him, boneless as a baby. “Really?” I ask, staring up at him.
“Really,” he says. “Always and forever.”
Except for us, it’s too late. It doesn’t matter.
We are well and truly fucked.
