As I step off the stage, the handsome and mysterious and obviously filthy rich winning bidder is there to greet me.

“Hello,” he says, holding out his arm for me to take. “I’m Maxim Drier.”

“I’m Celeste Sheffield,” I tell him, before thinking better of it.

I guess there’s no anonymity here at The Exchange club. And I guess there’s also no need for him to pay up front. Because he puts a strong arm around my waist and ushers me to a different room.

It looks like a restaurant, with private booths and curtains for the patrons. I expect Maxim to signal to a waiter but instead he keeps walking and I follow him, to another room off the side.

The room is like an enclave, with an outer area similar to what I imagine— from watching movies— the VIP room of a strip club must look like: a round bench made of plush fabric circling an open area with a table in the middle. There is another door leading to an inner room, and this is where Maxim finally takes me.

What the hell?

It looks like a torture chamber in here: with chains and hooks and whips hanging on all different areas of the wall.

He shuts the door and I feel trapped. I know this should be a bad thing but it kind of feels like a good thing. Or at least a naughty, exciting thing.

“Take off your dress for me,” he says, as he begins removing his pants. “I want to make the most of the time we have. There are a lot of things I plan to do to you tonight.”

I stare at him, unable to believe his audacity, but somehow still loving it.

“Aren’t we going to eat?” I ask, stupidly.

His eyes narrow as he glares at me.

“Do I look like a man who spends a million dollars to order you overcooked meat from a sex club posing as a restaurant?”

This time I can’t stop my mouth from dropping open, but I do my best to close it quickly.

I have to admit, I want to touch it. Taste it. Feel it inside me. He makes me want to do things I’ve never thought capable of doing.

“Do I need to cancel my order?” he asks me. “Or are you going to do what I want?”

“I—”

I begin unzipping the back of my gown. I’m confused, but this man makes me want to drop my panties when he tells me to drop my panties.

“That’s more like it,” he says. “So, you were just playing coy.”

I nod, unsure what I’m doing. All I know is that I’m getting naked with the most handsome, well-hung, richest man I’ve ever met. And why the hell not?

I let my dress fall to the floor. He nods and so I take off my bra and panties too.

Only then does he step closer to me. He smells like money. It must be his expensive cologne but it also seems to be a part of him, something as attached to him as that huge cock is.

I tense up, wondering if this was the biggest mistake of my life. Did this guy pay a million dollars to choke me? To kill me?

But he whispers, “Relax,” in my ear, and then he nibbles on my ear lobe. It feels so good I don’t even care if I die.

His moves his hands down to my breasts and holds onto them tightly.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

“Yes.”

I don’t know why, and I probably shouldn’t, but I do.

“Good,” he says.

He raises me up, while holding onto my breasts, until I’m standing on my tippy toes to reach the floor.

He nibbles my neck like he was doing to my ear and a chill runs through my entire body. “You need to trust me for this to be a good experience for both of us. If I do anything you don’t want me to do, just let me know, okay?”

“Yes,” I tell him.

“Great.”

He sets me back down to where my feet are flat on the floor again.

“Now I’m going to find out who you are,” he says, and he lays me back on a seat that looks like a cross between a bench and a table.

He retrieves some rope from a drawer. Then he ties my arms to some hooks on the wall.

I’m lying flat on my back, with my legs spread wide, my entire body completely exposed to him in every possible way.

This is not at all how I envisioned my first time would go, but I’m loving every second of it, and I can’t help but feel excited about whatever is coming next.