M/F ~ BDSM ~ Virginity Auction ~ Billionaire ~ Dirty Dom ~ Age Gap

Auctioned Off On Valentine’s Day

A billionaire is buying my virginity on Valentine’s Day… and I’m ready to give it to him. I think.

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Tessa

I’m running late by the time I arrive at Club Hot Commodities and I’m worried that I’ll get Brianna in trouble. But no one seems to notice.

“Right this way,” says a security guard, walking me to a curtained-off room where beautiful women are milling about.

Some of them are drinking out of cocktail or wine glasses while others are applying their makeup or doing their hair.

“Hello,” says a high-pitched, nasal voice. I turn around to see a tall, skinny brunette, her hand outstretched. “I’m Sally.”

“Tessa,” I tell her, shaking her hand.

She snaps her fingers, and a tuxedo-clad waiter walks over to us, holding a tray full of drinks.

“Oh, I don’t really drink…” I start to protest, but she picks up one of the glasses and hands it to me.

“You must be new,” she says, looking me up and down. I can’t tell whether the look is meant to be approving or not. “I haven’t seen you around.”

Before I can answer, she clinks her glass against mine.

“Cheers. You’ll really probably want this,” she insists.

I smile and then take a drink with her, the fruity liquid burning its way down my throat. I do my best not to grimace.

I can handle alcohol. After all, it’s not like I’m an alcohol virgin.

I’ve had my share of wild drunken nights drinking wine coolers at high school parties. Brianna and I have had hot toddies at her apartment or a few rum and cokes in my dorm room. I’ve even been to a frat party.

I just don’t particularly like drinking because I like to remain in control of all my faculties. I also didn’t think I should drink on the job, but apparently this job is different than most, in more ways than one.

“I’m filling in for Brianna tonight,” I tell Sally.

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding.

Suddenly her look definitely looks approving. Impressed, even.

“She told me she’d asked you to work in her place so she could spend Valentine’s Day with a guy she wants to become her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, instead of a lecherous old rich dude,” I joke.

The smile falls from her face, and I realize now that what I’d said probably sounded judgmental. I should keep my comments to myself and not insult the Club’s clientele. I hate how socially awkward I always turn out to be.

“All our clients are rich but they’re definitely not all old,” Sally says. “Or not that old, anyway. Actually, many are trust fund guys or self-made tech billionaires. Some are nerdy — if you’re into geek culture — while others are charming, and quite handsome to boot.”

“Oh,” I tell her, trying to dig myself out of a hole.

It sounds like she’s running a matchmaking service instead of an… auction service.

Is she running it?

Is she the “Madam” here?

Should I call her “Madam Sally”?

I have so many questions, but I can’t ask them since my foot is still stuck in my mouth thanks to the last stupid comment I blurted out.

“I was just kidding,” I tell her quickly. “About them being super old. And about anything else I may have said that might have been taken the wrong way. Sorry about that. I’m nervous. This is my first time doing… this.”

Or anything like this. At all.

“In fact,” Sally continues with a shrug, as she takes another sip of her drink, picking up where she left off, obviously without caring about what I was saying, “a lot of us wish we could date these guys. I know your BFF Brianna did, before she found her own rich guy who doesn’t know about her deep dark secret job.”

“She did?” I ask, annoyed that there is something this smug girl knows about Brianna that I didn’t.

I can’t tell if Sally is being threatening, or welcoming. I know I probably offended her with my comment. And I’m glad that anyone here is talking to me. I thought I’d be a wallflower no one would want to look at.

But maybe she’s messing with me. I just never trust people and can never be sure of their intentions.

“Yeah, but Brianna suffers from the same problem that most of us do,” Sally says, with another shrug.

“And what is that?” I ask.

“She’s a bit too wild and experienced for these guys to take seriously. It’s a conundrum, no doubt. Most girls only work here because they’re sexually open. But the majority of the guys who come here only seriously date the shy, innocent types. So, I think you’ll do well here.”

She raises her eyebrows at me knowingly.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, feeling stupid.

I also don’t appreciate her implying that Brianna is some crazy nympho when I know she’s not. Or at least she wasn’t. I guess I’m not sure what to think anymore, or how much I really know about her.

“Oh, just… you know,” she says, smirking. “You’re new here. You seem innocent. And you’re a virgin, right?”

I can feel the heat rushing to my face and I know it’s turning red.

“I… um…”

Damn Brianna.

Brianna has never had much of a filter, but I can’t believe she told her co-workers — or at least this Sally chick I’ve never even heard of — that I’m a virgin. That’s a private fact about me. It’s not hers to share.

I would call and curse her out — even if she is at the dinner where she hopes to begin an official relationship — if we were allowed to have our phones in here. Since we’re not, I’d left mine in the car and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go out there and get it. But the first chance I get, I’m going to let her know how I feel.

I don’t have time to think any further about it — or even to answer Sally’s prying question, because an older woman in a ball gown — Is she the Madam? Who the hell is the Madam? I can’t help but wonder — clinks a spoon against her wine glass and calls out, “Okay ladies, time to get this show on the road.”

Sally pats my shoulder, as if to tell me I don’t have to formally answer her question — she already knows. Then she says, “Don’t forget your bracelet, hon.”

“Oh yeah,” I reply, looking around until my eyes fall on a table in the corner that has different colored bracelets lined up in rows.

I had imagined paper or rubber bracelets like the kind given out at skating rinks, carnivals or clubs, to show who has paid or who is old enough to drink. Silly me. These are sparkling diamond bracelets, with different colored gems accenting the diamonds.

Of course such a posh club as Hot Commodities would have actual, fancy, expensive bracelets.

“Brianna said to get a yellow one.”

I think.

It’s hard to remember what Brianna said anymore, as the conversation seems to have happened decades ago instead of only hours ago, and I was zoned out when it was happening, anyway. Plus, she hadn’t even been that sure herself.

“You want a pink one tonight, Dear,” Sally says, with a patronizing smile.

I look at her, distrusting her words.

How I wish I had a phone, and that I could confirm with Brianna. I had never been able to figure out why she had told me to wear a yellow one, or what it all even means.

“But Brianna said — ” I insist.

“You were late, and you didn’t hear Adella’s announcement about it being Valentine’s Day,” Sally says, in a rush, as if she was already tired of helping me. She nods towards the lady who had told us to get the show on the road. “Tonight, there are only Valentine’s colors and a different system.”

I look at the bracelets lined up on the table.

Sally’s right.

There aren’t even any yellow ones. Just orange, red, white and pink. And Brianna had said something about the bracelets being switched for this special auction, although I can’t remember what colors she had said were switched, or if she even knew herself.

Sally winks at me as she holds open the curtain that leads out onto the stage. I guess I’m going to have to trust this tall, meddling stranger, because I don’t have any other choice. The bracelet color that Brianna instructed me to get is simply not an option.

It looks like I’ll be going with pink.

I gulp the rest of my drink down. Suddenly the waiter is back at my side.

“A shot, dear?” he asks, holding up a small glass full of clear liquid.

It’s tempting. I don’t know what awaits me out there and the cocktail I just finished sure feels good swirling around inside my veins and my mind. It aids me in not thinking too much and not asking too many questions like I usually do.

I look over at Sally, who is waiting for me to join her as she goes out onto the stage. I’m afraid she’ll disapprove because we don’t have time, but she nods at me and winks, as if knowing how much I need this drink.

“I don’t really do shots…” I start to say, and the waiter places the tray on the table and holds up a smaller size glass full of the cocktail I’d just finished.

“That’s why we have this chaser,” he assures me.

Looks like I’ll be doing a lot of things tonight that I don’t usually do.

“Okay, thanks,” I tell him, pounding down the shot and then gulping the chaser before I can feel it hit my stomach.

This time I can’t hide my grimace. The shot was rough, but I’m already grateful for it as I relax a little bit more.

I think about the guys waiting out there to bid on the pleasure of my company, and maybe more.

Are they really all handsome, and rich, and enviable, like Sally says?

It doesn’t matter, though, because there’s only one that I really want to be out there bidding on me. And I sure hope that he is.

My heart skips a beat as I finish the chaser and hand it back to the waiter with another nod of thanks.

Then I grab the pink bracelet and hurry to catch up with Sally, anxious to see what awaits me beyond the curtain.

Blake

I watch the girls file out onto the stage, but I know all of them. None of them are the new girl. None are my sexy redhead.

Where is she?

I didn’t fucking come here tonight to be with any of the women lined up in front of me. I could take any woman I wanted to dinner on Valentine’s Day. I could have an Ivy League educated debutante with whom to discuss politics, science or literature over wine and caviar.

I could fly her to my cabin in Aspen where we could ski all day and fuck all night. I could marry her and have three gorgeous babies with her and live happily ever after.

If I were just a normal man, even a normal filthy rich man, I could do any of these things. But I’m not a normal filthy rich man. I’m Blake Powers. I have particular predilections. And that’s why I come to this club.

I want a woman who will let me tie her up and spank her ass until it’s red and welted. I want a woman who will moan out of both pleasure and pain while the switches hit her bare skin and then beg me for more.

And then I want to walk away from that woman and never have to see her again unless I want to pay her to do it all over again.

Just when I’m beginning to think it was a lost cause and that I should go home, I finally see the woman I’m hoping will be all of that and more for me tonight. She walks hesitantly out onto the stage, following Sally. She looks timid, out of place, and totally fucking gorgeous.

My cock gets half hard at the mere sight of her. She has wisps of auburn curls — a beautiful mix of red, brown and blonde shades — falling down over her big green eyes and I want to tug on them while I fuck her from behind.

She has the best figure I’ve ever seen. It’s hourglass shaped with a curvy ass and full breasts. She has pale skin with beautiful red coloring in her cheeks.

I immediately look for her bracelet, to see what color it is, but she’s still fiddling with it while putting it on. It seems to take forever for me to be able to see its color, and my heart nearly pounds out of my chest when I see what it is: pink.

I search my memory of last week, when Sally told me about the Valentine’s Day auction. I’m almost positive she told me pink meant they were down for everything. And I do mean everything.

White is the normal yellow — dinner only, how boring. I don’t even bid on those girls. If they’re that chaste and shy, then they shouldn’t be working at a place like this. I don’t want to corrupt their innocence with my dirty, filthy ways.

Red is still the same color as it always is and means normal sex. I used to consider girls on this level, but it was a fucking tease, and a bore. So now I only go for girls wearing orange bracelets.

Orange means they’ll do anal sex and some BDSM. Nothing too crazy. Nothing like I like to do. But enough that it suffices. More than girls outside the club are usually willing to do — which is why I like to come here.

And then sometimes, on nights for holidays and special occasions like tonight, they change everything around and there’s a new level. Tonight, that level is signified by the pink bracelet — or at least I hope it is.

Pink means I can do what I want with the girl who wears it. Any kind of freaky, kinky BDSM. I could lock her in a basement and keep her as my sex slave for a week if I wanted to… not that I would.

A girl with a pink bracelet is mine for the taking, and the keeping. I’ve not only bought her body but her soul.

But I had been so excited to hear about the new girl coming on Valentine’s Day that the rest of what Sally said had all mixed together in a blur. So, I could be wrong about the colors, and I’m second-guessing it now that the new girl is wearing one.

My understanding is that she’s filling in for Brianna, who is usually a yellow-bracelet, dinner-only type of girl. It’s odd that a brand-new girl would jump to the hardcore BDSM type level of service, especially when the girl she’s replacing wasn’t one of those girls.

I just hope I’m right that this new girl is going to give me everything I could possibly want. Because if that’s true, then I’m in for a very happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

Luckily, Adella is coming my way. She’ll help clear up this mystery about the new girl.

“Blake, I’m so glad you could make it,” she says, sidling up to me and whispering in my ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m glad I had that good news to call you about. Now you can bid on that girl you were interested in, who is back tonight.”

“Yes. Thanks for that. But I have a question first,” I ask her.

“Of course,” she says. “Anything you need, just ask.”

I’m their biggest spender. I know she’ll do anything to make me happy. But only the new girl can do that tonight.

“I’m just making sure I understand the color system tonight,” I whisper. “The bracelet color representing the level I most like to purchase on special occasions such as tonight is now… pink… correct?”

I’m almost afraid to ask, thinking for sure that the answer is no.

But she just nods and smiles.

“Yes, Blake, that’s the level you prefer. And as always, we appreciate your patronage.”

Now my cock is standing at full attention, imagining the many different ways it wants to defile and degrade the innocent-looking girl standing on stage.

I can’t believe someone who looks like she does — and who just showed up here for her first time, ostensibly standing in for a friend — would let me do such vile acts to her. But I suppose she knows the price tag for that level of service is very high.

Maybe she needs to pay for college. My money will pay for that and then some.

“And Sally shared some good news with me,” Adella continues.

I look at her, intrigued. What other good news could there be, now that I know this girl will let me do what I want with her?

Sally is one of the top girls at the club and helps Adella keep things running smoothly. She gathers intelligence among the girls and passes the word on to Adella so that Adella can let clients such as me know things that are of import to us.

So, I’m interested to hear what Sally has found out about the sweet young thing waiting for me to buy her.

Adella leans in very close and cups her hand up around my ear.

“She’s a virgin,” she says.

“What?”

I say this too loud, and the man next to me clears his throat, as he’s straining to hear the announcements being made on stage. It’s all old hat to me — they’re stating the opening bid for the first girl. But I just found out that the one I want has never been touched.

I wish I could say to him, Excuse me for being just a bit excited.

“Yep. A virgin. That’s what Sally says, anyway,” Adella repeats, with a satisfied smile on her face.

I do my best to act restrained. I don’t want her to think I’m inclined to spend any more at her club than the outrageous amount that I already do.

I know she’s about to go whisper the same “good news” into the ears of another few potential bidders and I know she knows I’ll be the one to win the bidding. So, she already knows I’ll spend a fortune tonight.

“I’m going to be needing the Enclave tonight,” I inform her, mentioning a private room where high-paying patrons take a girl when they want to skip the pretense of dinner and get down to the important matters on the agenda for the evening.

“I figured as much,” she says, nodding as if it was a given. “And I’d already reserved it for your use tonight. Although, being that it’s a Valentine’s Day special tonight, there are quite a few others who are wanting it as well.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, returning my full attention to the girl on stage. “And that’s understood.”

The new girl is lovely and innocent, and she has no idea what’s in store for her tonight once I buy her time, her body, her heart and her soul.

It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m going to make her mine.

In every way possible.

Tessa

“You’re up,” Sally says, nudging me towards the front of the stage.

I’ve felt frozen in a mixture of fear and excitement since I got out here. But now I force my feet to walk in the direction of the “auctioneer.”

I still can’t get over how crazy all of this is.

“Next up we have Bri — wait a second,” the auctioneer says, as he reads his notes.

Sally walks over to him and whispers something in his ear.

“Standing in for Brianna tonight, we have the lovely Tessa,” the auctioneer continues, after clearing his throat. “She is a 19-year-old university student studying political science and creative writing, who seeks a career in journalism. She enjoys playing the guitar and listening to music.”

Brianna must have given him that bio, and it’s not exactly accurate. I haven’t played the guitar since high school. And I already have a “job” in journalism, so to speak. I won an award from my school’s journalism department that led to a part-time gig writing for the Phoenix Independent about political ethics.

In fact, if anyone from my job found out I was here — doing this — I might get fired. On the other hand, I think, squinting out into the audience, I’m sure there are some high-up politicians here and that this little gig could lead to a great exposé.

“She’s wearing a pink bracelet,” the auctioneer announces, which reminds me that I can’t expose whoever buys me for much, since I’m only going to be having Valentine’s Day dinner with him. “This is her first time here at Club Hot Commodities. We’ll start the bidding at ten thousand dollars.”

I look up at the auctioneer, trying hard not to let my mouth fall open in amazement.

Ten thousand dollars?

Someone is going to pay that much just have dinner with me?

“Here,” someone says, and I locate the man in the audience who is holding up a heart-shaped sign, indicating that he is placing a bid.

He’s staring right at me — as are most of the other men right now, of course, since I’m in the process of being auctioned off — but my eyes immediately lock on his. He’s attractive but he’s not my sexy mystery guy.

Sally was right. These guys are not only rich — they’re also hot.

But I only have eyes for one of them and I haven’t seen him yet, unfortunately.

“I’ve got ten thousand dollars; can I get fifteen thousand dollars?” the auctioneer says, and someone else raises their sign.

I look over to the man who did it, but he’s short and pudgy. So, I turn my eyes back to the first bidder.

He’s not my mysterious billionaire but maybe I have to give up on my dream of having him bid on me. For all I know, he was only here that one night Brianna came to check out Club Hot Commodities and he won’t ever be back again. He could even live in a totally different city; maybe he was only visiting Phoenix.

So, if I have to have dinner with someone besides him, I’d much rather it be this first bidder than the second one.

Please, my eyes beg the first bidder. Please bid higher. Don’t make me have dinner with that pudgy guy.

He smiles at me, his light brown eyes — the color of coffee with cream — twinkling as if he knows what I’m trying to silently convey to him.

“Twenty-five thousand,” he says, without waiting for the auctioneer to increase the bid.

I expect there to be gasps or shocked reactions, but everyone acts as if this is normal.

“I hear twenty-five thousand. Can I get fifty thousand?” the auctioneer continues, not missing a beat and in fact doubling the price.

Fifty thousand?

“Fifty thousand,” says yet a third man, holding up his sign.

No way.

Is this a dream?

I try to remember what Brianna had said about what percentage of the total amount of the bid I get. I wasn’t really listening because I’m only doing this as a favor for her — not the money — and I was more worried about the particulars of the strange arrangement to which I hesitantly agreed.

But if I’m remembering correctly, I think she said I get fifty percent, plus tips. Twenty-five thousand dollars? For having dinner with a stranger?

I think about my mystery man and can’t help but add, because I’m still feeling hopeful despite my best attempts not to:

With a rich, handsome stranger?

Count me in.

No wonder Brianna works here. I can’t believe she would give up all this money just for Billy. She must be really into him. I hope he’s already asking her to be his girlfriend by now. Or maybe he’s waiting until after dessert.

“One hundred thousand,” says a new bidder, and I breathe a sigh of relief that at least it isn’t the pudgy guy.

I can’t tell if this new bidder is my sexy mystery man or not. Although he’s seated, I can tell that he’s tall. His shoulders sit high above those of the men sitting on either side of him, and he has impeccable posture. He has a full head of dark brown, wavy hair. I don’t know very much about suits but his looks very fancy and expensive.

He looks quite a bit older than me — old enough to be my father — but there’s also something sexy about that fact. I never thought I’d be into an older man, and I get annoyed by the clichéd stereotype of all the old men and young girls in this city.

But if they’re being paid fifty percent of one hundred thousand dollars, and if the man isn’t that old, but is a sexy kind of old, then I suppose I shouldn’t have been quite so harsh in my judgment. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Because I would actually like to have dinner with this mystery bidder. And maybe even more than that.

I’m really hoping it’s the guy I think it is, even though the lighting is too dim, and he’s seated too far back, to be able to tell for sure.

As the bidding increases — it’s up to one hundred and fifty thousand, and now two hundred thousand! — so does my heart rate. I also notice that I’m becoming noticeably wet.

I shift the position in which I’m standing, as if other people can see how moist my panties are. I’m a bit embarrassed that I’m so turned on by the fact that I’m being auctioned off like cattle, as I’d so sarcastically called it when I was talking to Brianna.

But the new bidder continues to be the high bidder no matter who else bids, and I enjoy the fact that he wants me so badly he’s willing to pay any price.

Finally, the bidding is up to seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. The second bidder — the short, pudgy one — seems intent on winning this bidding war.

The first bidder, and all the other ones except the new mystery bidder and the second, pudgy bidder, have all dropped out.

“Eight hundred thousand,” he calls out, rather meekly now.

He’s holding his sign up, but a bit lower than he usually does, as if he’s getting tired.

Come on, I will the new bidder. You’re almost there…

Sure enough, he stands up, not even bothering to bring his sign with him.

“One million dollars,” he shouts.

Now the men in the audience — and the other women still left up on stage — react like I expected them to in the beginning: sighs and gasps can be heard all around.

And I feel like gasping along with them, not just because of the amount of the bid but also because I’m pretty sure this is my mysterious billionaire. The guy I’ve been wanting to win me has, I think.

I squint to get a better look but now that he’s taken a step closer to the stage, I’d bet money — and apparently, I’ll have a lot of it now — that it’s him. My heart is pounding so quickly in my chest that I think it might fall right out!

The second bidder lets out a flustered sigh.

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You can have her.”

Thank goodness.

As the winning bidder curves his full lips into a smile, his eyes tell me he plans to get every penny’s worth of his million-dollar price point out of his dinner with me.

Except it’s becoming clear to me that he wants me to be more than just a dinner date this Valentine’s Day.

And as he steps even closer towards me, it’s also becoming clear to me that I’m just fine with that idea.

Because this man is definitely the same one that I saw when I was here with Brianna.

I’ve finally found my Mystery Man again… or he’s found me.

He’s won me, just like I’d hoped, and now he gets to enjoy me — any way he wants.

I have a feeling he won’t be the only one enjoying it, though.

I’m already looking forward to spending time with him.

And not just at dinner.

Tessa

As I step off the stage, the handsome and mysterious and obviously filthy rich winning bidder is there to greet me.

“Hello,” he says, holding out his arm for me to take. “I’m Blake Powers.”

“I’m Tessa Davenport,” I tell him, giving him my real name before thinking better of it.

But I guess there’s no anonymity here at Club Hot Commodities. And I guess there’s also no need for him to pay up front. Because he puts a strong arm around my waist and ushers me to a different room.

It looks like a restaurant, with private booths and curtains for the patrons. I expect Blake to signal to a waiter before we get seated, but instead he keeps walking and I follow him, to another room off to the side.

The room is like an enclave, with an outer area similar to what I imagine — from watching movies — that the VIP room of a strip club must look like: a round bench made of plush fabric circling an open area with a table in the middle. Then there’s another door leading to an inner room, and this is where Blake finally takes me.

What the hell?

It looks like a torture chamber in here: with chains and hooks and whips hanging on all different areas of the wall.

He shuts the door and I feel trapped. I know this should be a bad thing but it kind of feels like a good thing. Or at least it feels like a naughty, exciting thing.

“Take off your dress for me,” he says quickly, as he begins removing his pants. “I want to make the most of the time we have. There are a lot of things I plan to do to you tonight.”

I stare at him, unable to believe his audacity, but somehow still loving it.

“Aren’t we going to eat?” I ask, stupidly.

His eyes narrow as he glares at me.

“Do I look like a man who spends a million dollars to order you overcooked meat from a sex club posing as a restaurant?”

This time I can’t stop my mouth from dropping open, but I do my best to close it quickly.

Once he’s taken off his pants, he pulls off his underwear too. He has a cock so huge it seems unnaturally big. He holds it in his hand and gently strokes it until it swells up even bigger.

I have to admit, I want to touch it. Taste it. Feel it inside me. He makes me want to do things I’ve never thought capable of doing.

“Do I need to cancel my bid?” he asks me. “Or are you going to do what I want?”

“I — ”

He begins unzipping the back of my gown and I let him.

“Drop your panties,” he says.

I’m still confused, but I do it, because this man makes me want to drop my panties when he tells me to drop my panties.

“That’s more like it,” he says, looking me up and down. “So, you were just playing coy.”

I nod, unsure what I was doing, or what I am doing.

All I know for sure is that I just got naked with the most handsome, well-hung, richest man I’ve ever met.

And why the hell not?

I never thought I would lose my virginity this way: to a much older, more experienced, incredibly rich, devilishly handsome man who I just met and who just happened to drop a million dollars to win a bid for me to be his Valentine’s Day treat. But I’m beginning to think it might be the hottest way for it to happen and that I’ll enjoy it more than I can possibly even imagine.

He’s still very close to me, looking at me up and down. He smells like money. It must be his expensive cologne, but it also seems to be a part of him, something as attached to him as that huge cock is.

“That’s more like it,” he says. “I’ve been imagining you naked ever since I first saw you. You’re even more beautiful than I thought you would be.”

My pussy is dripping wet now, and I love the compliments he’s giving me.

“Those big breasts and your perky nipples look perfect together,” he says, reaching out a hand and twisting one of my nipples while cupping my other breast in his hand.

He bounces it around a bit and even slaps it some, but I don’t care. It just makes me that much wetter.

“It’s like your body was made for me to play with,” he says. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me play with it?”

“Yes,” I tell him, meaning it.

“Good.”

He walks around behind me and puts his hands around my neck.

I tense up, wondering if this was the biggest mistake of my life.

Did this guy pay a million dollars to choke me? To kill me?

But he whispers, “Relax,” in my ear, and then he nibbles on my earlobe. It feels so good I don’t even care if I die.

His moves his hands down to my breasts and holds onto them tightly. Then his fingers begin stroking and pulling on my nipples, which only makes them stand up even taller, as if they’re loving how he’s making them feel.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

“Yes.”

I don’t know why, and I probably shouldn’t, but I do.

“Good,” he says.

He raises me up, while holding onto my breasts, until I’m standing on my tippy toes to reach the floor.

He nibbles my neck like he was doing to my ear and a chill runs through my entire body.

“You need to trust me for this to be a good experience for both of us. If I do anything you don’t want me to do, just let me know, okay?”

“Yes,” I tell him.

“Great. The safe word can be ‘pink.’”

“Okay,” I tell him, thinking that that’s ironic, and also that I don’t plan to use a safe word.

I’m all in for whatever he wants to do to me tonight. I already was from the first time I saw him.

As if reading my mind, he says, “Now, if you want me to keep going no matter what, I can do that. Just understand that it’s your choice.”

“Alright,” I tell him.

He sets me back down to where my feet are flat on the floor again.

Then he reaches into a cabinet and pulls something out.

It’s a small vibrator, shaped like an egg. He sprays some alcohol on it and cleans it off.

“Now I’m going to find out who you are,” he says, and he lays me back on a seat that looks like a cross between a bench and a table.

He retrieves some rope from a drawer.

Then he ties my arms to some hooks on the wall.

I’m lying flat on my back, with my legs spread wide, my entire body completely exposed to him in every possible way.

He’s looking at every inch of my naked body, including my pussy, which is open and waiting for him. It’s even dripping wet, which I should feel embarrassed about, but somehow, I don’t.

“I’m glad to see that you’re ready for me,” he says, noticing my wet pussy, although it would be really hard not to, since it’s so drenched.

“Yes, Sir,” I agree.

“Do you like my big cock?” he asks, stroking it while staring at my pussy. “Do you want to let me put it all the way inside that little virgin pussy hole of yours?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Are you going to say the safe word and make me stop?”

“No, Sir. You can do anything you want to me. Please.”

Please fuck me, I want to beg him, but I don’t want to sound like too much of a slut.

There’s no way I would ask him to stop doing whatever he wants to do to me, because I’m so turned on just by the thought of letting him do it.

It’s not like I would be naked and tied down and spread open for just anyone. Clearly, I came here for him, and I’m ready for whatever happens.

This is not at all how I envisioned my first time would go, but I’m loving every second of it, and I can’t help but feel excited about whatever is coming next.

Thanks for reading! This was part of my erotica serial called Selling my V-Card on V-Day. To continue reading the next part in this serial, which is called An Older Billionaire Took My Virginity on Valentine’s Day, click here.

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If you missed the first story in this serial and want to start at the beginning catch up, click here to read Part 1.

Click here for the Table of Contents that lists all stories in this serial in their reading order.

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