Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 38961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I wasn't trying to save it, but I wanted to give it to someone I loved, and if you're too busy working, you sure aren’t going to find time for silly things like love. There is no one even close to my age at the farm. I spent most of my days with Tim, who just mainly grunts his responses. He puts just as much work into the farm as I do, working hard for his own family. I don’t think I could handle things without him, but I know if we don’t start turning a better profit that I could end up losing him.
“So what do think?” I ask, looking at Kim through the mirror. She’s clearly a pro at this, and I’ll take any advice she can give me.
“You look like you're going to make a killing.” She winks at me again, and then goes back to fluffing her hair.
The double doors burst open, and Samantha comes strutting into the dressing room. She checks over all the girls one by one, her redheaded assistant running around, frantically trying to make sure it all looks perfect for her. Samantha’s quite interesting to watch; I can’t help but be in awe of her and this business she’s built. I feel like there’s a really good story there, but I’m sure with the kind of secrets she keeps, she’d never tell it. She’s stunning and looks almost like a Stepford wife, but I don't see a ring on her finger. Her shiny blonde hair is pulled back into a perfect chignon with not a strand out of place. She has very little make-up on, and her outfit, though just a simple black dress, looks like it cost more than I can imagine. She oozes class and sophistication, which is odd because she’s basically running a high-class prostitution service, if you were to call it what it really is.
Meeting Samantha was a stroke of luck. She was at the private poker game when I came to get my father. I'm guessing she was there to get business from the high rollers for the Mistress Auctions. When she saw me, and the bind I was in, she pulled me to the side and told me how she could help.
She said if I met all the requirements, I’d go up on the auction block and would be given to the highest bidder. She collects a percentage of all sales, but insisted there were lots of rules and guidelines to protect everyone. She told me a few of the rules that first night, and the one that stuck out the most was the virgin clause.
In the agreement, virgins must have their first coupling on the property right after purchase. Maybe they wanted to be sure the girl was really a virgin, but I thought the extensive physical should have proved that. Either way, that rule stuck out in my mind because I knew once the hammer went down on ‘sold’, it was time to pay up and put out. The thought terrified me, and I tried not to dwell on it. If I did, I’d be out the door in three seconds flat.
Samantha looks over all the girls, inspecting every detail, and when she gets to me she stops. She looks me up and down and nods. “You’re first.” Her smile is wicked, and she seems a little smug. “You're going to make me a fucking killing. I’m thinking those two would pay anything.”
I give her a questioning look, thinking someone is already set to bid on me. Maybe they gave out our pictures when people first arrived or something.
“I should’ve put in a decoy to jack up the price,” she mumbles, clearly talking to herself as she walks away.
“Drink it,” Kim says, shoving a glass of champagne in my face.
“I’m not old enough.” I push the glass back from my face, needing to keep my head straight tonight.
“Yeah well, it’s not really legal to sell your virginity either, but here you are. Drink it. It’ll help calm your nerves. You look like you might pass out.”
She’s right. The time has come, and I do feel a little faint. Part of me wants to flee the room, but I’m not sure I can move my feet right now. I take the glass from her hand and drink it in three big gulps. It’s crisp and extra cold, making my eyes water for a second. I take a breath, and I do feel a little better by the time the drink hits my stomach.
“Let’s go.” Samantha’s assistant takes my wrist and pulls me down the short hallway with Samantha leading the way.
I look back over my shoulder, and see Kim mouth ‘good luck’ at me, and I turn back around, trying to keep my feet from tripping over nothing. We stop short of a thick black curtain, and I suddenly feel like I’m in The Wizard of Oz, wondering what’s sitting on the other side of the curtain. I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Red places me dead center in front of the curtain, and then backs herself off to the side. Samantha walks over and pulls some of my dark curls over one shoulder, but makes sure they’re not covering my breasts. The white nightie hides nothing at all, sheer fabric from my breasts down to my mons. Red tried to get me to put a thong on, but I told her it wouldn't look too hot if I was picking my ass the whole time I was on stage. The compromise was no underwear, so I’m sure whoever is on the other side of the curtain is about to see all of me. I feel a chill, and the cold champagne I drank so fast has turned my nipples rock hard, making them easy to see through the thin fabric.
Samantha straightens my appearance, and makes a tutting sound when she looks down at my feet. It’s then I notice I don’t even have any shoes on. Shit, I forgot the stupid heels. Probably for the best anyway, I would likely fall off the stage in them.