Mastering The Virgin 1-5 novel Chapter 9

Across the aisle, there’s Finchby, another bad case. He runs girls downtown and they often turn up ‘for work’ with bruises.

But most of the crowd, I don’t know, although they’re a real mixed bag. All shapes, sizes and nationalities. The only thing they have in common is they’re all members of the heavy wallet club.

The bidding for Blossom grinds to a halt and the gavel goes down. Blossom’s buyer stands to claim his…. what? His goods?

There’s a pause of a minute or so while a leash is clipped to her collar and she’s led away, grinning broadly as she looks up at the final price displayed on the board.

‘Virgin’? Yeah….

And then ‘my’ girl walks onto the podium.

The photos did lie….

They don’t do her justice.

She’s tall and willowy and she moves so gracefully as she steps up.

On the podium, she stands, dressed quite conservatively compared to the little tart of a few minutes ago; just a blouse and skirt and of course, the leather collar at her throat. The blouse is a trifle low cut, but nothing that would turn a head in the streets.

She looks astonishing, and I stare, captivated, until with a shock, I release the breath I’d not realised I was holding.

Around me, there is a low murmur, a ripple through the crowd. Quite a few are interested in her, it’s hardly surprising really.

How much will it take to get this girl?

I have no idea, and I turn my attention back to her. Her expression is frozen. She’s scared, really scared, trembling as she stands there.

But you’re not letting it stop you….

“Charlotte, turn around,” instructs the auctioneer. “The clients want to see what they are bidding for.”

She slowly revolves but looks down at the floor.

Are you a sub?

Or just frightened?

“Raise your head,” shouts a voice from somewhere to one side of me. “At these prices, I want to see what I’m getting.”

Bastard….

But she lifts her head, biting her lip. Her breathing is rapid and shallow, and her skin sheened with perspiration. She looks ready to bolt.

The auctioneer takes a side-look at her, then leans in close, whispering something. She nods and straightens up, painting a smile on her face and looking over and across the room. The auctioneer, watching her, gives a satisfied nod and turns to the gathering.

“Now then, Gentlemen,” he begins, “we all know why we are here. Charlotte here is twenty-two years old and has been certified by our medical experts to be a virgin. Of course, the winning bidder will be able to test that for himself.

“As usual, all bids are final, except in the event of Charlotte herself not complying with the terms of the auction. Which is to say that she will willingly serve the winning bidder in any way he requires for a period of one week. The sale of her virginity is included in the terms.

“Recipients of the proceeds of the sale are: House takes 50%....

Fifty percent!?!

“…. Charlotte takes 50%. The winning bid will be lodged in full by the winning bidder with an intermediary attorney immediately after the close of the auction for the period of one week, after which it will be paid to the recipients.

“So, Gentlemen. Who is going to start the bidding?”

The bidding starts high. At the opening figure, her eyes widen, and she looks up at the display as it climbs rapidly in thousand-dollar steps. She’s watching the monitor, her eyes darting between the board and the floor as she tries to follow who’s bidding.

At first, there are a good twenty bidders, but half of them fall away within a minute or so as the price sky-rockets. But I don’t bid myself. I want to see what happens.

Charlotte’s gaze wanders a little, as though she's trying to catch the eye of some of the audience.

Can’t say I blame her. Steer the bidding to someone who looks halfway decent?

From the side, a note is passed to the auctioneer. He holds up his hand. “A pause please, Gentlemen. I am getting the message from several sources that for them to be willing to bid any higher, they want to be able to see more.”

He turns to her, where she stands, pale-faced, lips parted. “Charlotte, it is entirely your choice, but are you willing to undress at this stage, on the podium? It will almost certainly help you to bring a better price.”

She looks appalled. “Undress now? All the way?”

She didn’t count on this…. thought she’d have privacy at least….

“It’s up to you, Charlotte,” says the Auctioneer. “No-one is going to make you. But the better they can see what they are buying, the better your chances.”

She hesitates, then nods, starting to unbutton her blouse, looking as though she is about to burst into tears. She removes it then slips off her skirt, leaving her only in her underwear.

“C’mon,” shouts some moron from close by. “Let’s see the rest.”

My conscience stirs uneasily. I wouldn’t like to guess how many women I’ve undressed or stripped, but they were all happy about my doing it.