CHAPTER FIVE: Katrina
Because it was Sunday night, I helped close the bar around ten and was in bed by eleven. My father and I didn’t say another word to each other, probably because there was nothing left to say. He came upstairs and did his thing and I did mine. When he plopped down on the couch with a six-pack of Coors and the TV remote in his hand, I went into my room and locked the bedroom door, something I’d never felt the need to do before.
I didn’t think anyone was going to break in and harm me, at least not yet, but I felt better knowing that the lock might at least slow someone down until I could call 911. I set my cellphone on the nightstand and plugged in the charger without turning off the phone. I usually turned it off at night to recharge, but not anymore. You can call me paranoid. I call it being prepared.
I took off all my clothes and put on my pajamas and slid under the covers. I was exhausted, as if I’d spent the day pushing boulders up hills rather than pushing drinks at patrons. Stress can do that to you, I supposed, suck the life right out of you like cancer sucked the life from my mom. I could just picture her looking down from Heaven, furious at my dad for what he’d done to me; for what he’d done to himself. She always loved him regardless of his flaws. I wondered if she was still alive if she would support him now. Probably so. She was always much more tolerant and forgiving of him than her daughter would ever be.
I cried for a while, feeling sorrow for myself, and loathing and fear for my dad. Once I had no more tears to give, I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, unable to shut off my brain so I could fall asleep. When I did start to drift off, the conversation I’d had with Bethany started replaying in my mind.
Her question took me aback at first. Was I still a virgin? Really, at a time like this, you’re going to give me shit because I don’t fuck every guy who looks at me like you do?
That’s what I wanted to say to her, but didn’t because I didn’t want to get into it with her again over my virginity. She knew I was still a virgin. We’d had this conversation dozens of times before. It was always the same.
“Would you please fuck somebody already,” she’d say. Then the rant would begin. “You’ll be amazed at how much better you feel once your cherry is popped! Maybe it’ll loosen your tight ass up a little bit. I promise you, Kitty Kat, it’ll feel so fucking good you’ll wanna do it over and over again! And I can teach you how to suck a dick so good that it’ll literally make any guy your slave. Men think with their cocks. You make a man cum until he thinks his head is gonna explode and he’ll follow you around like a puppy. Get that cherry popped, bitch! Spread those legs and put out the ‘open for business’ sign!”
Bethany was such a whore and far from a poet, but she was probably right. I had so much sexual tension built up in my body that sometimes I thought I might explode. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no prude, nor have I been saving myself for marriage based off some misguided religious or moral grounds. I was a virgin for two reasons: lack of opportunity and lack of a man who I wanted to fuck. That’s it. There were lots of guys who would have gladly popped my cherry over the years, but I’d never met a guy I would offer the opportunity to, and I wasn’t going to let a guy pop my cherry just because it needed to be popped. And it wasn’t about love or any of that sappy shit. It was about desire and passion. When I do give my virginity away it would be because I wanted the man so badly I couldn’t hold back, not because Bethany told me it would make me feel better, like popping a fat pimple on your nose just to relieve the pressure.
It wasn’t Bethany’s question about my virginity that was keeping me awake. It was what she told me afterward that had me so restless, the reason behind the question.
“There’s this auction,” she said, glancing around the bar to make sure no one was listening. “They do it every few months at this big estate outside of town. Rich guys bid on the girl’s virginity. A hundred thousand dollars is the starting bid. Sometimes it goes into the hundreds of thousands. The guy who bids the highest gets the girl for the whole weekend and she has to do whatever he says sexually, within reason, of course. Violence is not allowed, but some light BDSM is.”
“BDSM? What’s that?” I asked, feeling a little like I’d been living under a rock all my life.
“Bondage, discipline, sadomasochism,” she explained as casually as if we were talking about the weather. “He’s buying the right to pop her cherry. And paying dearly for the opportunity. If he wants to tie her up and gag her, that’s allowed, but nothing that would cause serious injury or leave permanent marks.”
I blinked at her for a moment, wondering how she could be kidding around at a time like this. Her expression told me that it was no joke.
“You’re not serious,” I said. “Girls actually auction off their virginity?”
She gave me a slow nod. “I’m totally serious,” she said. “And the girl gets half the money. Tony told me that some girls go for as high as three or four-hundred-grand or more.”
“Tony?” I huffed and rolled my eyes. “Your fuck mate Tony who owns the club.”
“Technically his dad owns the club, but yes, that Tony. He’s told me several times that if I knew any smoking hot virgins to let him know. When I asked why he wouldn’t say, then he got drunk one night and told me everything. They hold these auctions every few month or so. And they’ve been doing it for years. They usually have a dozen or so virgins and a couple dozen men bidding on them. There’s a little meet and greet before the auction so the men can talk to the girls and get to know them a little, then the auction happens and the bidding begins.”
“Oh my god, this is like something out of a movie,” I said, putting my fingers to my lips. “This can’t be real.”
“Oh, it is,” she said, head bobbing. “Anyway, after the bidding stops, the winner pays up and the girl is his for the weekend. The only rule is they have to stay there at the mansion in a private room for the weekend to make sure the girls are kept safe. Other than that, they own the girl from Friday night until midnight Sunday night. At the end of the weekend, the girls is paid half of what she went for at the auction, in cash. If it was a hundred grand, she gets fifty. If it was two hundred grand, she gets one. And so on. Not a bad paycheck for a weekend of fucking a rich guy, even if he’s old and fat. I wish I could go back and close up my hole so I could cash in, but those days are looooong gone.”
“And you think you can get me into this auction?” I asked, barely believing I would even consider such a thing, even though the thought of it was making me tingle all over. “I mean, is it really safe?”
“Tony guarantees that it’s completely safe,” she said. She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Kat, is this something you’d really consider doing? I mean, auction off your virginity to save your dad?”
I thought about it for a moment, then began to slowly nod.
“Yes. To save him and myself. Talk to Tony. Find out what I need to do. I’m in.”
* * *
I opened my eyes to find myself standing on a stage of some kind. Not a stage, actually, more like a box or a podium that lifted me off the floor by several feet. I had to hold out my arms to keep my balance. The room was dark except for a spotlight somewhere above my head. I glanced up and shielded my eyes with my hands to peer into the darkness. I looked down. I was naked except for a pair of stiletto heels. My tits were full and round, my nipples large, like plump thimbles about to burst. My bush was neatly trimmed, though I had no recollection of having trimmed it myself. It was cool in the room. I felt little goosebumps rising and falling all over my body.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was surrounded by men on all sides as far as I could see, too many to count. They were of various shapes and sizes and ages and colors, all naked, all extremely well hung, their cocks long and hard and veiny in their hands. As they stroked their cocks with one hand, they began to reach for me with the other. I tried to slap their hands away, but my wrists, which were free a moment ago, were now stretched wide and bound high above my head. I felt my legs spreading. When I looked down my feet were shoulder-width apart and my ankles were chained to the podium. I was basically standing, but spread eagle, like the man in that Da Vinci sketch.
I tried to cry out, but found that I couldn’t because there was something in my mouth. My tongue pressed against the hard rubber ball gag that was wedged between my lips and tied around my head. I was completely helpless to protest as the men got closer. My eyes widened as the men and their big cocks closed in around me.
Hands and fingers and lips and tongues probed every inch of my body. They squeezed my breasts and tweaked my nipples until I moaned at the pain and pleasure it brought. Hands squeezed my ass cheeks, massaging them roughly, kneading them like dough. I felt fingers slipping between my ass cheeks, probing my anus lightly at first, then deeper, until the pain brought tears to my eyes and finally a sigh of pleasure from my lips.
Fingers explored my pussy, spreading my lips and swirling around my hole. I felt warm juices gush from within me. Something hot and wet, a tongue perhaps, teased my clit, rolling it from side to side and licking it up and down. My body started to heat up, as if a fire had been set deep inside my belly and was now burning its way through me, sweat dripping from every pore.
The ball gag that had blocked my screams disappeared as fingers pushed into my mouth, forcing their way past my lips and across my tongue. I welcomed them into my mouth. I sucked on the fingers and moaned. The fingers melted together and grew in thickness and girth until I knew it was a cock in my mouth now. My lips suctioned around the thick shaft as it slid in and out of my mouth. My mouth was filled with the taste of salt and sweat. I felt hot juices flowing on my tongue. The bulbous head pushed against the back of my throat, but I didn’t gag. I somehow relaxed my throat and took the cock all in, slathering it with my tongue as it slid slowly in and out of my mouth.
Fingers slid around my opening from the front and from behind, lubricating themselves before sliding deep inside me, pushing the breath from my lungs. One finger slid inside me, then two, then three, then the whole hand up to the wrist. The hand started sliding in and out to the rhythm of the cock’s motion in my mouth. I moaned as my body began to shudder with orgasm after orgasm. I wanted to suck the cock down my throat and take the hand deeper inside me. I wanted to cum so hard that it took my breath away and made me scream out in pleasure and pain.
The hand in my pussy became a large cock. The cock that was in my mouth became a hot, wet tongue. When I opened my eyes I found that both belonged to a beautiful man, tall, dark, muscular, though the features of his face were a blur. My wrists and ankles were suddenly free. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he slid his hands under my ass to scoop me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his cock go deeper inside me as he pulled me to him. As his tongue dueled with mine and his cock stretched my cunt to the point of splitting open, I began to cum. I tightened my grip around his neck and sucked on his tongue as wave after wave of my juices washed over him. I heard him whisper my name and knew he was filling me with his hot milky seed.
I startled myself awake. I was naked, my body covered in a film of hot sweat. My pajamas were on the floor. The twelve-inch silicon dildo I kept hidden under the mattress, a gag Christmas gift from Bethany, was buried deep inside my pussy. The dildo, my hand holding it, and much of the bed beneath my ass was soaked from my juices. The scent of my sex filled the air like a heavy breeze from the salty sea.
I sighed as the dildo slid from my pussy, my inner walls flexing to push it out. I massaged my breasts and nipples for a moment. They were aching and I realized I must have been squeezing them in my dream. After a moment to catch my breath, I picked up the pajama bottoms and mopped my drenched pussy with them, then wiped off the dildo with the pajama bottoms and slipped it back under the mattress. I left the pajama top lying on the floor. My body was on fire, too hot for clothing or covers.
I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep again. There were no dreams this time. I slept peacefully and woke up completely refreshed because I knew there might be a way to save my father and to free myself, as well.