Kane
Life is fucking boring. I was killing time before tonight’s auction and had decided to visit the Club’s bowling alley. But this was no regular bowling alley because as usual, it was staffed by fine looking women, blondes, brunettes and redheads. And per club custom, each of the ladies wore nothing but a big smile and a small thong, tottering about in high heels as they served drinks.
“More sir?” purred a blonde, leaning forwards while balancing a silver tray in her hand. Her jugs were good, yes, but not great. I like mine big, and this girl was no more than a C cup, although her tits were firm and round. But the blonde sure knew how to work it because as she leaned over, those huge sacks of cream rested on the silver tray, offered up like delicacies, tempting and beckoning.
But it wasn’t enough. I like my girls curvy, and this blonde wasn’t quite there.
“Naw, I’m good,” I grunted. “You?” I tossed out to my companion.
Robert shook his head as well.
“Nah,” he drawled. “Don’t wanna be hammered before the main event tonight, hear there’s gonna be a good one.”
I shrugged, only half-listening. There’s always rumors of an especially good one, and of course, all of the goods are always grade A at the Billionaires Club. We pay top dollar for scouts to scour the United States, to make sure that the most beautiful, succulent girls go up for auction on our stage. The scouts do a shit ton of pre-screening, physical, mental, emotional, legal, you name it. It’s like working for the FBI. Everyone’s got to jump through a billion hoops to get access here, and that includes the help.
But I was skeptical of these rumors of a “good one” because just last year, one of my brothers had been sorely disappointed. He’d punched through a girl’s hymen only to realize that a doctor had inserted a piece of plastic in its place. Literally when he pulled his dick out, there were bits of rubber clinging to the pole, except the doctor hadn’t bothered to pick pink or red, or something that might realistically resemble a hymen. That fucking doc had picked fluorescent green, like it was some sick clown joke.
And of course Les had gone ballistic. The girl who’d supposedly been a virgin was immediately escorted off premises, and the scout who found her fired summarily. But that wasn’t the end, hell no. The Club moves in subtle ways, and vengeance is best when you have no idea it’s coming.
Because that scout’s career was ruined. He never sourced another girl, in fact he was black-balled by all the casinos on the strip, couldn’t even get a job as a croupier if he wanted. So last I heard, the dude was living in Mexico somewhere, trying to sell plastic souvenirs to tourists, jangling keychains and other such shit.
But hey, that’s just life. Fuck with the Club and your life will be fucked. I had no sympathy for the loser, he rolled the dice and lost … as expected. After all, we’re a group of billionaires with unlimited resources, what’s one little guy in our way? It was almost like he wanted to be crushed, was begging for it, dying to be stamped into the concrete.
But all that’s over and tonight’s a new auction. I was going, for sure. It’s been a long time since I had a woman, and I was ready for some fresh pussy. It’s not that I can get it, oh no. Women fall flat on their face when Kane Caldwell’s around, practically pushing each other to get to me. I could be at Starbucks, at the gym, or just walking down the street, and women are practically catfighting, scrambling for access.
But lately, something’s been missing. Maybe it’s the fact that the ladies lately have been stick thin, with arms and legs like rubbery chickens. It’s gross the way females today do it. They eat nothing, trying to survive on sunlight and air, and as a result they look like scarecrows. Boobs shrivel, becoming droopy sacks, and their appendages are stringy and insect-like. And oh shit, those asses and pussies? I don’t mean to go ballistic, but I’m an ass man, I like big butts and I cannot lie. And lately there’s literally nothing there. What the hell? What happened to butt-injections and ass lifts? I thought this shit was the next thing with Kim Kardashian and all, but evidently on the Upper East Side, a certain set of overly-tanned blondes still think small is good.
So yeah, I was fucking disgusted with the women I’d been seeing. I can’t even remember their names at the moment, it’s just a faceless rotation of female bodies. Oh wait, there’s one that springs to mind. Bunny. That’s right, she’s got an overbite to match her nickname, although she tries not to smile too much to hide those teeth.
So I’d taken a jet to Vegas for the weekend, leaving the ladies back home in a lurch. What the hell. I deserved a night off from those harpies, they’d find something else to do, whatever it was, I didn’t care.
And of course, the Club didn’t let me down. After getting a massage and taking a dip in the Olympic-sized pool, I headed to the bowling alley, and whaddya know, but Robert was here. Robert is a mofo from way back, he actually got me involved in this shit, recommended me for membership. So I felt obligated to make some conversation, to acknowledge the other alpha.
“So what’s the special tonight?” I grunted.
Robert knew I wasn’t talking about drinks at the bar or any shit like that.
“I hear she’s a virgin,” he said.
I snorted.
“They’re always virgins,” I said, looking off into the distance, bored. “So what? That’s what we pay for.”
“Yeah, but I hear the one tonight is special. Super curvy, ass and tits out to there, right up your alley.”
Although I gave no indication that I’d heard, still relaxed in the plush club chair, my dick jerked involuntarily. Fuck, just how curvy were we talking? This was like water to a thirsty man, I’d been wandering the desert for ages now. And despite myself, I had to ask
“You got some stats?” I ground out.
Robert smirked like a motherfucker.
“You bet I do. You didn’t see the bulletin the office sent out? It’s a new thing, they’re distributing key vitals before sales so that buyers can get the scoop.”
And with that, the man pulled out a catalogue. For real, an actual catalogue with glossy pages and the Club’s emblem emblazoned on the front.
“What the fuck?” I grunted, sitting up. “What the fuck? Is that a yearbook or something?”
Robert smirked again.
“Naw, not a yearbook, just an introduction to the goods, to see the girls before they come up, learn a little about the females. See?” he asked, flipping to a page somewhere in the middle. “I tagged this one, this is the one I want tonight,” he said, passing the book to me.
And true to form, this asshole had played me. Because sure enough, the catalogue opened to a delectable redhead, some girl named “Cathy” with a sweet, winsome smile. But even worse, Robert had jizzed on her face, the magazine pages sticky with dried cum, yellow crusted stuff flaking off.
“What the fuck!” I roared, throwing the book back at him. “What the fuck?”
And Robert literally roared with laughter, throwing his head back and opening his mouth so wide I could see his molars. Other guests in the bowling alley turned to look at us, shooting us dirty looks.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I raged. “This is so fucking disgusting, asshole.”
Robert just laughed even more.
“So what?” he smirked. “You set me up on that date with Tammy the space case, so it’s fair play.”
I paused for a moment. That was true, I’d set him up with Miss November, who was perfect to look at but who suffered from severe autism. Tammy knew exactly how to take her clothes off and spread her legs for pictures, holding a pose, but a conversation? Naw, that was out of her league, even “Hi” was hard.
So I grunted in acknowledgment.
“Yeah that was pretty classic huh?” I asked. It was my turn to smirk now. “Tammy was pretty fucking awesome huh?
“Fucking awesome?” snorted Rob. “More like that girl couldn’t survive without her handlers.”
Because it was true. Tammy had an entourage surrounding her, but this wasn’t your regular group of hangers-on and super-fans. Her particular entourage included a speech therapist and autism specialist, both of whom worked with Tammy on a daily basis to help her recognize cues from other people, to develop advanced social skills.
“Well, I hope you plowed her good,” I grunted. “I hope you got to sample the delicacies.”
Robert just shook his head.
“You’re fucked up man, you know that? Really sick in the head. The woman is practically disabled, and you sent her out on a date.”
I shrugged. Didn’t bother me.
“Was her entourage with her?”
Robert nearly blew his top then.
“Of course they were! That woman can’t get around without someone wiping her ass for her, we had five people with us at the restaurant, it was fucking insane.”
I just grinned once again.
“But there weren’t five people in the bedroom right? You got some nookie-nookie with the blonde?”
And Robert rolled his eyes at that one.
“Fuck you man, fuck you. I’m not even answering that.”
I grinned once more. Because hey, that’s all I cared about. So long as I got a chance to sample the goods, then I didn’t care what was in her head, what was going on her brain. And in Tammy’s case? The real answer was probably that nothing going on in the second story. It’s unfortunate, but the bimbo was literally so dumb that it was just air up there, and not in a good way.
So I gestured to a passing waitress and beckoned her over.
“Listen, can we get another one of those?” I said, pointing to the discarded catalogue on the table. “A new one? Untouched?”
The woman, this time a delectable brunette, nodded sweetly.
“Certainly sir, I’ll see right to it.”
And she waltzed off, hips swaying, butt cheeks bouncing in those high heels.
“Huh,” I grunted. Seems that everyone knew about these catalogues but me. What the hell, had it gone to my email and I’d missed it? I was gonna have to get my assistants on this shit, it was clearly more important than plan documents or prospectuses, the business junk that clogs my inbox daily.
And soon the woman came back, bearing a booklet on her silver platter.
“Here you go sir,” she murmured sweetly, bending over to hand it to me. And lo and behold, but those tits swung in my face, narrowly brushing my nose, literally just centimeters from my mouth. Again, they were good, but not quite great. Tanned with deep brown nipples, the sacs swayed before me, tips hard from the cold air of the bowling alley.
But shit, I’m not a man to turn down candy, and in this case, it was already the second time tonight. The goods were still Grade A, just not Grade A+, and I could deal, at least for a moment. So I went for it. Leaning forward, in one swift movement, I caught a nipple in my mouth, sucking that hard nub between my lips, tasting our cocktail waitress. And the woman sighed ecstatically, throwing her head back, crying out with a soft sigh.
“Oh yes!” she moaned, hips twisting erotically, hands moving up and down her sides sensuously. “Yes, yes!”
But again, this woman wasn’t my type. There just wasn’t enough flesh on her frame, she was too scrawny all over, these tits too small, that bottom too flat. To really feel it, I needed at least thirty more pounds, hefty goodness, miles and miles of white flesh, and this woman simply didn’t deliver.
So I popped her nipple out of my mouth and gave it once last lick, squeezing her ass affectionately.
“Thanks baby,” I rumbled. “But that’s good,” and with that, I placed a five hundred dollar bill on that silver tray, waving her away.
The woman pouted for a moment, body still quivering, nipple shiny and glistening from my saliva. And I admit, I was tempted to go back in for more, to let it all go, but enough was enough. She just wasn’t my thing. I wanted more. I wanted big, I wanted bountiful, I wanted to fuck a woman who bounced, jounced, and jiggled everywhere, and our waitress wasn’t it, she was way too small. So with another slap on the ass, I tipped her an additional hundred and grinned, leaning back in the club chair.
“Thanks baby,” I drawled. “We’re good.”
And with another pout that instantly transformed into a smile, the woman nodded once again.
“Certainly sir, please let me know if I can get you anything else.” And with that, she walked off, hips swaying, still beckoning with her backside.
I leaned back into the chair, slouching, looking around now. Despite the public display, not one person was looking because that’s how it goes in the Billionaires Club. The women we source are here for our pleasure, they’ve signed on knowing exactly what their role is, and frankly, a couple of my brothers were getting it on with different girls, right here, right now. I could see William in the corner, a girl writhing and moaning in his lap, and Jake over by the door, lightly teasing his fingers between a stunning brunette’s legs. With a lascivious smile, he reached for a straw and I had a feeling where that was gonna go. Into her somewhere, it was just a question of which hole.
So yeah, we’re a fucked up group. We use women, we pay them for their time, sure, but essentially, we’re using female bodies, taking them for our pleasure and then sending them packing. It’s the biggest benefit of the Club, from my perspective. The ability to fuck a woman and then show her the door, no strings attached? No tearful goodbyes, no gifts of jewelry or cash to make the transition a little easier? Fuck yeah, the service was worth its weight in gold.
So with a satisfied grin, I turned back to Robert.
“What was it you were saying?” I grunted, leaning back, relaxed.
Robert just shook his head.
“A mofo as always,” he rumbled, “You’re in fine form Kane, fine form.”
I grinned once more. Because all of a sudden I was looking forward to the auction tonight. The scene with the waitress had been an aperitif, stoking the fires, and now I wanted more. I was ready, I didn’t have to look through that godforsaken catalogue, I was ready to see some grade A flesh, beautiful girls paraded out left and right … and fuck yeah, I was going to bid, buy, and win.