Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“You’re damn straight I’m in because there’s no way I’m letting the two of you enjoy a woman who’s willing to sell her holes one by one without me. I mean, the fucking depravity. She must be a gem.”
Smiling, I nod, and then wave over the waitress for a refill. She’s sassy with a generous smile, and goddamn, it’d be nice to make her scream with my hands wrapped up in her brown curls while I fuck her pussy, holding her hair back with Mike and Harry taking care of her other holes. But then she flashes us a sweet smile and for just a minute, I wonder if what we’re doing is wrong. After all, would a woman really consent to this? Would she really let herself be auctioned off “for parts,” so to say?
But then I shrug it off. It’s not my problem and besides, many women have a dirty side. There’s probably a hidden temptress down in our mystery woman’s core, and she just wants to find the right situation to explore her filthy desires.
I adjust my dick in my pants so it’s not straining against my zipper, and turn to hold my glass up to Harry and Mike.
“To us,” I announce. “I’ll let Benny know we’re game.”
“And tell him to set it up asap,” Harry says quickly. “The thought of this is fucking rancid and I want in.”
I laugh.
“Will do, my friend. Will do.” With that, the wheels are set in motion for the filthiest chapter of my life … and also, the most rewarding.
4
Sierra
A week later.
I wait in one of the private suites at Club Z, a bit nervous. After all, I’ve never had access to this part of the club. There’s been no reason because bartenders are considered part of the food and beverage staff, so we stay in the West Wing. But here, in the deep recesses of the compound, are a series of luxurious suites that take my breath away.
Looking around, I feel like I’m in a dressing room preparing for a turn in an old classic black and white movie. There’s a walk-in closet full of beautiful women’s clothes that cost more than what I make in a year, and when I opened the dresser drawer, expensive, lacy lingerie greeted me. Of course, there’s a second closet stocked to the ceiling with plastic boxes filled with women’s shoes. Boots, flats, stilettos, slippers, you name it – it’s all there. Plus, on the far wall is a floor to ceiling mirror with sides that angle, and a chest next to it filled with items that made me shiver: whips, handcuffs, and other toys that I couldn’t even identify. I guess some of the auctions and private shows get pretty crazy.
But none of that applies to my current situation. Instead, I stare at myself in the mirror, noting my flushed cheeks. The lingerie I’m wearing is certainly scandalous, but feminine too. It’s black lace and about eighty percent see-through with mesh cups covering just enough of my breasts to contain my nipples, lifting my heavy tits together and amplifying my luscious cleavage. The lace continues down the front of my body, turning into a see-through mesh material which forms a garter, wrapping around my back just above the curve of my ass. Sure enough, the fabric doesn’t cover my ass or pussy. Instead, it’s strapped to see-through black hose, leaving my pussy and ass on full display. After all, the guys who are bidding will want to touch, and this lingerie will provide full access.
Tentatively, I lift a leg, positioning my right foot on a nearby step-stool and inspect myself in the mirror. Good, good. My pussy is fully shaved, the pink already glistening and juicy. Then I turn and bend over, exposing my coffee pucker. It winks under the light as I pull my cheeks apart and swallow heavily. God, this is so wrong but is it bad to say that I’m looking forward to the auction? And not just for the money either, but because of the sheer naughtiness of what’s about to happen.
But I have to stay in control. Sure, my heart’s racing and my palms are feeling a little clammy, but no one’s going to fork over thousands of dollars if I don’t perform. I have to deliver, otherwise I’ll probably be fired. That’s the real consequence of taking on this gig.
Suddenly, the door bangs open and sure enough, it’s Benny again. Why can’t that guy open doors like a normal person? Even more, my skin crawls with disgust as his stupid beady eyes go straight to my exposed ass, eating up the hefty swells.
“Looking good, Sierra,” he huffs. “Real good.”
“Thanks,” I manage in a wan tone. “Should we go?”
“Yeah,” he grunts, wheezing a bit. “It’s time to get this show on the road.” But instead of turning away, he steps closer and this time, I see that Benny’s holding up a black silk scarf clutched between his chunky fingers.