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Virgin for Sale (Yummy Virgins Book 1) by Sam Crescent (1)


VIRGIN FOR SALE

 

Yummy Virgins, 1

 

Sam Crescent

 

Copyright © 2018

 

Chapter One

 

Faye

This has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I mean, it’s not the most original idea. Girls and women of all ages sell their virginity, so it’s not like I’m doing anything shocking, not really. I’m twenty years old. I’ve dropped out of college because the money is needed for my young sister. I’ve gotten sole custody of her, and she’s sick, really sick. I have to do this for her so that we can get away and also so he doesn’t try to get her back if for whatever reason they give him parole or something like that.

Our stepfather decided he couldn’t keep his hands to himself and has been abusing Kerry for years. Our mother died after being run over by a drunk driver, and our stepfather kept us with him. I didn’t know what was going on. It fills me with guilt to think he was able to get his hands on my sister and I didn’t even see it. Not that he needed to worry about that. He’d been manipulating her so she didn’t really have a choice in saying no to him. He made it so that she had feelings for him.

The doctors said a lot of things were needed for her. How she was at a critical point and I had to make sure she got the best care possible because she’d attempted suicide and she was brainwashed by our stepfather to love him, to accept his brand of “love.” Either way, there is no way I couldn’t do this.

I love my sister, and I’m not going to lie, the guilt eats at me, knowing our stepfather went to her room most nights.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I focus on the room around me. The room that would serve for a cherry stripping.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Just a thin piece of skin, really. A pain that was going to serve to bring me the most money. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I wonder what to do. Finding this place hadn’t been difficult. Just asking a few of the girls at college had led me right here, to Cherry. Yeah, it’s so cliché, right, Cherry? That is the name of the nightclub. What I didn’t know was the owner, Malcolm Cherry, had a side business of auctioning off girls’ virginities. Yep, that he certainly did.

Kind of scary when I think about it.

Strange too.

Meeting him had been a surreal experience. I sat in his office while he stared at my body, assessing me like I was a piece of steak. At first, I didn’t think he’d go for someone like me. I’m not exactly on the slim side but have curves, from big tits to huge hips, rounded thighs with just a hint of cellulite. He’d made me stand up, turn around, look this way and that, and he’d actually seemed impressed.

There were two options to pick from on how to sell my virginity. At first, I thought he meant either online or in a room full of men.

Nope.

My two options were this; I could have the fairytale deflowering, which is all kinds of weird in itself. I guess that is why Malcolm is so popular though. He caters to most people. The fairytale deflowering is where a man buys me, we have a nice date, it ends with sex. Something beautiful for the first time. For me, it sounded a little too personal, too intimate, and besides, I needed more money. Malcolm had been clear that the cost of the date and experience would come out of the final payment.

Intimacy.

Feelings.

Emotion.

I didn’t want that. None of it. Also, I needed more money, and I wasn’t going to waste it on a date I didn’t need or want.

So, option two. I don’t get the date or the fairy tale. The guy doesn’t give me the time of my life. I stay in a room and wait to see who has decided to purchase my very precious cherry. From there, we fuck. There is no niceness. No pleasantries. Just sex. A business contract, signed and sealed, and finished with a dick. They have a portfolio of women who want to make money off their first sexual experience.

All I had to know was which one paid the most. Malcolm takes his cut of ten percent, but after that it varies with the customer. He told me that some girls had sold for over six figures because the demand had been that great. He wouldn’t accept anything less than ten grand. After all, we were offering something of a lifetime. Not only that, his clientele were wealthy bastards who enjoyed paying for something exclusive.

It would seem virgins are hard to come by these days.

Rubbing my hands together, I see the small blue braid bracelet my sister made for me a few years ago. She told me that she’d put a special spell on it so no one would ever hurt me. Damn it. I should have been the one protecting her, and while she’d been hurting, I’d been oblivious.

Batting away my tears, I stand up and pace. My nerves are shot.

Tonight, I’ll be having sex with a stranger, and it won’t be giving me the fairy tale either. I’m quite happy about that actually. I don’t want the fairy tale. I was never one to love a prince. I loved the beast and always felt ripped off that he didn’t turn back. Why would anyone want a weak prince when they could have that incredible beast of a man?

See, weird. Totally weird.

There are no windows in the room. Just one door. A large, four-poster bed dominates the room, and they have a thing about mirrors as well.

So many mirrors that no matter where I look, I see myself.

My brown hair is a mess from running my fingers through it. My eyes are wide. I’m a little afraid. Terrified, really. The clothes I’m wearing are nothing sexual. Malcolm told me I didn’t have to dress up, that part of the charm of option two was the realness of it all.

Why did I opt to just get fucked?

This is business.

I had always fantasized about what my first time would be like. Touching a man, being touched. Not once did I think it would be to the highest bidder. Still, not having the dream experience means that more security is in place. There would be a man posted outside the door just in case.

If at any point the mystery man decides to use his fists, or hurt me, I’m to scream. The guard would be in and all will be okay. He’d deal with the man and I’d still get paid.

The fear is back.

I’ve never been good when it comes to pain.

I’m the kind of person who cries when she cuts her finger. Wow, this is going to suck big time.

Staring straight ahead, I feel my heart pound, which gets worse as I hear a knock on the door.

I glance around the room. Should I answer? Why are they knocking?

Biting my lip, I can’t stop frowning.

The knock comes again.

“Who is it?” What else am I supposed to say? This isn’t my home, nor is it my room. This was just for one night.

“May I come in?”

His voice is dark and deep.

My heart rate triples.

Shit.

This is really happening.

I’ve sold my virginity, and now I have to pay the price.

“Yes, of course.” I hate how nervous I sound. Does he hear it? He doesn’t enter straight away.

I count how long I wait for him to come inside.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The door finally opens. I look away, almost afraid of who I’ll find entering the room. There isn’t any window, and my fear no longer feels justified.

I did this.

The man has bought me for the night, but this is all me.

Every single part of it.

I turn and look at him.

He isn’t what I was expecting.

The man standing by the door is indeed older; late thirties maybe. Not that I can tell all that much from staring at him. He looks at me, his hands by his sides, but he doesn’t seem nervous.

No.

Staring into his deep blue eyes, I am taken aback by how he watches me, assessing. There is something dark beneath that gaze that keeps me on the spot.

This is the man who’s purchased me.

For one night he owns me, and because I didn’t demand the fairy tale, it doesn’t have to be sweet and nice.

I wanted the darkness, and from the look on his face, he is more than willing to give it to me.

“Stand up,” he says.

I do exactly as he said.

Fighting is useless.

Bowing my head, I wonder how long the carpet’s been laid. It looks old, almost vintage. Maybe that is the appeal here. It reminds me of something you’d see in an old movie where the girl was put up for sale.

Okay, now I’m just trying to pretend my fantasy isn’t that fucked up.

This isn’t a fantasy, far from it.

“Strip.”

I don’t even know his name.

Not that it matters. I won’t tell him mine.

Kicking off my sneakers, I start working on the buttons of my shirt. He still hasn’t moved.

I give him my back as I go to unsnap my bra. His voice holds me to the spot.

“No, I want to see. Turn back around. Show me.”

My cheeks are on fire.

I’ve never been spoken to like that before.

Without looking at him, I slowly remove my bra, feeling my tits spring out. I’ve always been well-blessed in the chest department.

No one else has ever seen them.

There are a lot of firsts going on tonight.

When I finally get to my panties, I hesitate.

“All of it.”

There is no need to get scared. If he hurts me in any way unless I want it, I can call out to the guard.

Wriggling out of my panties, I clasp my fingers together, hoping my long hair will in some way cover my body.

I’m not used to showcasing my naked self.

The room is nice and warm though.

“Turn around.”

Slowly, I move in a circle so that he’ll see all of me.

“Come here.”

His instructions are starting to grate on my nerves, each word an irritation. All I have to do is remember my sister in the hospital and it propels me forward.

There’s no way I’d be here for any other reason than my sister.

The man, my owner—I’m thinking of naming him Blue—grips my chin and tilts my head back.

“There it is. There’s that fire I saw.”

I’ve no idea what he’s talking about.

He strokes my cheek, and I’m very much aware of his fully-dressed state.

His thumb glides across my lips, and I keep them closed.

“So, you want to have that cherry taken from you. To be fucked by a real man?”

Again, I don’t say anything.

I’m caught up in his touches.

The moment his finger slid across my lips, I felt a tightening within me. When he talks, his voice arouses me. I don’t want him to stop. I’ve never been so turned on and irritated before.

“Open.”

His thumb presses against my lips, and I open up to him. He thrusts inside, and I watch him. In and out, he presses. “This mouth was made to suck a nice, big cock. We’ve got tonight, and by the time I’m done with you, not one part of you will be innocent anymore.”

He suddenly moves me backward.

Collapsing to the bed, I look up as he spreads my thighs wide. He holds my legs tightly, stepping between them.

“Very nice. I knew you’d have a nice, juicy pussy. I can see how wet you are.”

Malcolm advised that I wax down below, but there was no way that was happening. I’ve tried to wax my legs before, and that turned into a nightmare. Why anyone would put themselves through that kind of pain is beyond me.

I always trimmed my pubic hair, and that’s what I’d done. It wasn’t like I wanted this big, bushy thing.

His hands move from my thighs and slide up my body. He cups my tits, pressing them together, gliding down toward my pussy.

He spreads the lips of my pussy, and I hear him groan. “Now that is a surprise.”

I cry out as he touches me. One finger across my clit and I arch up.

“So sensitive and wet. We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

He steps away. Going to my elbows, I watch him as he starts to undress, each piece of clothing landing on the floor without a care in the world. When he stands before me, naked, I can’t think or feel.

I’m all over the place.

Happy, scared, excited, freaked out.

Above all, I’m aroused.

This I didn’t expect. How could I be aroused? This man is a complete stranger to me.