Buy Me, Sir(27)

"I'm scared," I admit, and he sighs.

"If it's not him, you get out of there, fuck the money."

I nod, but I know it's not going to be that simple. There's no way it  will be that simple. You don't just walk away from crap like this, not  from people like this.

"Would you do it," I ask, "for twenty grand?"

His breath is on my hair. "Henley?"

I nod, and feel him smile.

"Hell, Lissa, I'd probably do Henley for free."



Alexander



I'm contemplating Candice or maybe Elena. Maybe even that perfect little slut Britney Jane if she's available.

It doesn't really matter, I just need to pound my cock into some tight little pussy and wrap my fingers around her throat.

I've got a backlog of messages from Claude, some new girls, some older  offerings whose exclusivity agreements have expired. None of them  interest me in the slightest.

I sigh and check out the auction listings. Five pieces of hot new pussy ready to go to the highest bidder.

A pretty dark-haired girl with blue eyes, nice, but literally every single fucking box has a tick in it.

A chubby little redhead with a cute smile, she's a definite maybe, but  the app tells me there have been ten pre-interest bids on her already,  and she won't do anal. Fuck that.

A natural blonde with ridiculously unnatural tits. No. Definitely not.

A girl who's going for the sexy librarian look but failing miserably. She's no fucking librarian. No fucking way.

And the final listing. The hot piece of the evening. A certified virgin with hundred grand reserve, Jesus Christ.

I click on the link and up comes her image.

It stops my fucking heart.

She's young, maybe early twenties, big pretty eyes staring up at the  camera. She's in pink underwear that doesn't fit very well, a soft  innocence on her face that belies her surroundings.

Her light blonde hair is cut in a jagged style, her body petite and pale.

Like Debbie Harry.

She looks like a young Debbie Harry.

My cock twitches and I'm smiling.

I'm a teenager again, jerking myself crazy over the tatty posters on my  bedroom wall. Fuck knows how many times I've come thinking about fucking  that woman. I've still got the posters somewhere, folded up in a  storage box for prosperity.

And here she is, a good enough replica that my cock's already pulsing.

I need this. I really fucking need this, virgin or not.

I call Claude and he answers after a single ring.

"I was wondering when you'd grace me with your voice," he laughs.

I'm not in the mood for jokes.

"I want the virgin," I tell him. "How much? I'll get it transferred."

He ums and ahhs, acting like he's in a real fucking corner. "No can do, I've got pre-interest. A lot of pre-interest."

"Fuck the pre-interest," I snap. "Just give me a fucking price, don't be a prick."

"Bidding starts at eight," he says. "I'll see you there."

I haven't got time to argue before the cunt hangs up. I curse the fuck out of him and then I check my watch.

Twenty fucking minutes to get to fucking Chelsea.

I grab my fucking coat.



I pull into Claude's bastard saleroom car park, piling out of the car with a haste that revolts me.

A doorman lets me in when I rap on the front entrance, then locks up behind me.

"Mr Henley, sir."

I wave him away and pace on through to the back.

Everyone is already assembled, at least fifteen men from my social  circle with their crappy bidding cards in the air for the librarian  girl. Fifty grand she's going for.

They are welcome to her.

I ease myself into the back of the room, hoping that nobody gives me a  second glance, but old man Kennedy, one of the senior players at the  House of Lords, clocks me in the corner of his vision. A nudge to his  associate and a smile in my direction, and the whole room is alive with  whispers.

My father turns his head, and the grin on his face makes me sick to the stomach.

He heads in my direction and I bristle when he clamps a hand on my shoulder.

"Good call, boy, I knew you'd make it. You here for the librarian, nice piece of pussy, isn't she?"         

     



 

"I'm not here for the librarian," I sneer, and his eyes light up.

"Of course, Blondie, yes." He tips his head. "You'll be going up against your old man, Alexander. I've got my eye on that one."

The idea makes me seethe. "Back off," I hiss. "I get first choice, remember?"

He shakes his head. "Not this time, boy. Not when there's a pretty pink  hymen on offer." He laughs and slaps my back. "May the best man win."

There's no best about it. I try to shrug off the disgust as he heads back through the crowd.

I'm about to walk away on principle, fuck this whole fucking spectacle,  but the hammer comes down at sixty-five grand on the brunette, and the  next lot flashes up on screen.

Amy.

Twenty-one.

Virgin.

No limits.

I have to look twice at the screen to make sure, but it's right, Claude confirms it in his summary.

No limits, not a single one.

My throat is bone dry as they play her intro video, and I know the girl  shouldn't be here, she's too innocent, much too innocent. The nervous  sparkle in her eyes, her shy smile.

I can barely look, but I can't turn away.

She's absolutely fucking beautiful.

She tells the camera she has no limits, none at all. She tells the camera she's a virgin. She tells the camera she wants this.

Claude zooms right in on her untouched pussy like the seedy cunt that he  is, and she's perfectly imperfect, her pussy lips puffy and uneven. Her  tits aren't perfect either, natural and fleshy with tight little pink  nipples.

There's an intimacy about her that makes me uncomfortable as I watch her  play with herself on screen, as though she's staring right into me,  right through me.

I have to swallow a weird lump in my throat as she wraps her fingers  around her throat and tells Claude that's what she likes, and I nearly  come in my fucking pants, right then and there in this disgusting  fucking place with these disgusting fucking people.

The bidding starts before I've even regained my fucking clarity.

One hundred grand.

One twenty.

One two five.

My father comes in at one fifty.

I head him off at two hundred grand, my eyes meeting his and hoping my stare burns him to fucking death.

He nods. Two twenty.

Two fucking fifty, I say.

Another bidder, some idiot who can't see what's going down here. Two sixty.

Three hundred grand, my father says. And let that be a fucking end to it.

But no, no fucking way.

"Three twenty," I say to Claude.

My father tips his head. "This girl, she'll have a tit job, yes? And get those dangling fucking pussy flaps trimmed off?"

I could kill the sonofabitch with my bare hands as Claude responds in the affirmative. "Buyer's expense, of course."

My father nods. "Three fifty."

"Four hundred," I counter.

Claude's eyes widen, a greedy smile on his face as the room murmurs. It's safe to say everyone else is out of the running.

"Four-fucking-twenty!" my father shouts. "Don't be a fucking fool, boy!"

But I am a fucking fool, a fucking fool with a raging hard on in my  fucking trousers and an unstoppable desire to block his chances of ever  laying a finger on that poor girl.

"Five hundred grand!" I snap.

The room goes silent. Dead silent.

Claude's gavel hangs paused in the air.

My father shrugs, laughs to the crowd. "He used to have a crush on Debbie Harry, silly little teenage thing."

The rooms laughs with him, but I don't care. I'm past fucking caring.

"Five hundred grand," Claude says. "Any further bids?"

Once, twice, three fucking times, and the gavel comes down with a bang that makes my heart soar.





Chapter Nineteen





Alexander



I've paid a cool half a million for one night with some little blonde  slip of a girl who doesn't know what the fuck she's signed up for.

I think my fixation with the cleaner was less insane than the craziness  I'm involved with now, but that doesn't matter. My heart soars, and it's  a welcome rush.

It would have been worth it just to win the standoff with my cunting father, but there's more to it than that.

Amy.

She excites me.

The prospect of pushing her limits excites me. It's base, and thoroughly  immoral, the intent to corrupt something so innocent, but this is not a  charity endeavour. I'm going to take my money's worth.

The only saving grace is that she'll spend her first time with me and  not my father. She's dodged a bullet there, one she'll never be aware  of.

I fill in the specification form as soon as I'm home, listing my preferences for tomorrow evening. My criteria is easy. Simple.         

     



 

Wear whatever she likes.

No preferences on makeup, or waxing, or what kind of scent she has on.

I want her, as her, exactly as she is.

Claude's message tells me he'll confirm ASAP, within the hour.

Good.

I'll be waiting.



Melissa



Both Dean and I jump to attention as the email alert sounds on his phone.

I can't look. I really can't look.

I ask him to read it for me, perched on the edge of the sofa with my heart in my hands.

His fingers are shaking as he calls it up, his voice croaky.

"Tomorrow night."