I watch the rise and fall of Sarah’s chest, her breath finally slowing, and that’s all that keeps me hanging on. Every dark strand of her chocolate hair that often frames her face is tucked back into an elegant chignon. Nothing is out of place. Everything is perfect for display. A cosmetic counter’s best products are on display on her elegant, angelic features. Her face is masked in beauty, yet dripping with pain.

How did I get here?

I know how she got here. I'm the reason Sarah is here, on an auction block, trembling, for display.

I accept that Sarah is part of this. Part of making sure that the equation is solved, balanced.

But my heart and soul are ragged as I watch Sarah’s failed attempts to regain control of just her breathing.

"…Finest the Virgin Market has to offer…" one of the hosts barks as rich buyers walk past us and I catch some of his sickening words.

Through her frightened state, Sarah manages to catch some of them too. She yelps silently, fear stealing the sound from her lips, at whatever words she catches. Her mouth closes, the glossy lipstick smoothing over each lip when they press together again.

I thought Trevor, Sarah, and I had this situation figured out.

Except how could we?

Sure, my solution was entirely a half measure. Of course it didn’t work out one hundred percent. I just didn’t think it would fall apart like this.

I didn’t think I would fucking fall apart like this either.

The Virgin Market previously garnered a dispassionate response from me. These girls, and their virginity, were just another commodity to be sold and traded. So what? I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t see it as any different than any other business. I just didn’t happen to be one of their customers, or sellers.

Trevor had bought single nights on the Virgin Market before. He and I had also done some sharing in the past of decidedly non-virgins. There was a particular weekend where we shared a hot cougar who’s very elderly husband had passed and she wanted to celebrate her near infinite riches. She elected to do so impaled on both of our cocks. Afterwards, Trevor took the time to tell me that he liked younger, less experienced gals, and, would I like to try the Virgin Market?

He told me about it and I wasn’t interested. I didn’t come across outraged. I didn’t even judge him.

I was just…whatever about it.

I’ve never needed to buy women. You know that about me for sure if you know who I am.

My body makes any woman wet.

Including you.

My 8-pack abs cut with diamonds and sculpted with granite.

My bedroom eyes.

My rugged face.

My 12-inch cock.

My billions of dollars.

I am the epitome of fuckability.

Taking Sarah had been an offer I’d taken up on instantly, determining that my next move would be decided later.

When it got complicated, I asked Trevor to make sense of it. It was an intuitive move because I knew he could handle making the decision.

But I thought my solution to getting Sarah out of my mind was selling her to Trevor. Trevor even pushed me to sell her on the Virgin Market.

Yet, I couldn’t handle the thought of her belonging to anyone else but Trevor. I shared her with Trevor once, and that was fucking hot. We were selling her at the Virgin Market despite the fact that she was not a virgin. Which was fine…because Trevor was buying her and that was fine on his part. And no one would fucking know she wasn’t a virgin. Ironically, this was a business of some kind of twisted honor. At least an honor system that the girls for sale were virgins.

And then Trevor disappears before he can buy Sarah. What the fuck? I just can’t fucking bring myself to sell her to anyone else, and I didn’t think this was going to happen.

After everything, Sarah’s parents are here, suffering from seeing what's going to happen to her. Now I’m here and I can’t buy Sarah because I'm selling her…and I just want to leave.

I've already placed her up for order. I thought Trevor was running late, and would show. Now three minutes remain and in these three minutes, I'm dying a thousand deaths.

I can't satisfy the Market’s demands for a virgin without offering a replacement girl that buyers can purchase, and even if I had one, it's too goddamn late.

I face the very real risk that I'm here now, selling Sarah as a virgin to someone else, and that she will be truly lost to me, and Trevor, forever.

This is all my goddamn fault. Because what fucking mattered to me? The wrong goddamn things. I never, ever should've done any of this shit.

Trevor couldn’t possibly have forgotten or decided against buying Sarah, yet he isn’t fucking here. Isn’t answering his texts. Isn’t picking up his phone. Fuck.

I don’t want to deal with this shit right now. I want to deal with comforting Sarah.

She's terrified. She doesn’t know that we weren’t just planning to sell her anymore. She thinks we’ve abandoned her. And now … I'm being forced to do just that.

I have everything to lose; if I lose Sarah, she is everything to me.

I see her eyes shine with tears that won’t fall. Her gaze is full of enough pain that it feels like screaming in my already harried mind. I want to answer those screams, kiss those tears before they can be cried. That’s when I know. I feel the pit of my stomach ring out with the impact of the truth.

I will blow everything up in my entire goddamn life and anyone who comes at me before I let this happen.

I look at Sarah. She’s hurt, betrayed, confused. Of course she is. Sarah doesn’t know how to feel about feeling betrayed when she shouldn’t have discerned any loyalty at all.

But that loyalty is fucking there. No matter how much I've fought it.

Now, before I can tell her, the light on her auction block goes off, and I realize that I didn’t fucking act quickly enough.

I’m going to lose her forever.

What kind of fucking monster am I? I decide to run with her, save her, hide her, but seconds too late before I can?

No.

Sarah’s time has ran out.