Chapter Two
Wilder
Money isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, yet I’d bet any one of these people wandering this Fall-Fest would pluck out their hearts if I wrapped it in enough zeros. If I wasn’t born with money, I’d be that guy too.
Hardworking, hungry, scraping at every opportunity like it was my last meal, desperate to fill my bank account to the brim. It’s who I was born to be, but lately money isn’t enough.
I need a challenge.
Not thrill-seeking or adrenaline-junkie extremes. I’m seeking an experience most people take for granted. I’m seeking an experience that’ll pull me out of my head and into real life. Something that’ll shake me up, fill my veins, provide me with novelty none of my friends are experiencing.
That’s why the virgin auction makes sense. I’ve bought companies, penthouses, politicians, and favors. Not many of the people I know have chosen to commodify the human experience.
I’m ahead of the curve.
Sure, the virgin auction sounds twisted on paper, transactional and maybe even clinical, but at least there’s truth in it. No pretending, no games, just raw intent laid bare. It’s not love, it’s not a lie, and it’s cleaner than what passes for romance in my world.
Fall-Fest spins around me. Children laugh, hay flies, violins screech through old country tunes, but none of it touches me like it does the other folks.
I see smiles and relaxed shoulders, people kicking up dust and gravel as they dance.
Long term, I’d like this kind of experience.
A weekend where I trick myself into feeling things.
Things normal people feel without thought.
Dragging in a breath of deep-fried sugar, I move toward the entrance of the festival, where the girl and I agreed to meet.
We haven’t spoken at all except for the short exchange of location.
The app doesn’t allow for conversation. The only thing I’ve been privileged to is a short bio, including kinks, a list of showstoppers, a 3-D image of her body, and a close-up of her face.
I’ve looked at the images half a dozen times since I started bidding.
There were quite a few rich assholes going after her, so I had to stop everyone in their tracks.
One million dollars for an innocent little virgin.
Freckles on her cheeks, tits full and sitting high, curves thick and round.
She’s a student at Colorado Springs University, struggling to make ends meet, and she claims to be down for anything.
We’ll see about that.
It’s then that I catch a glimpse of her gorgeous frame out of the corner of my eye.
She wears a short orange dress with a black cardigan and a side bag that looks like a bat.
Her hair is swept back in a long ponytail, and though I can tell she’s tried to cover the dark circles under her eyes, they’re still there.
I wonder what kind of real-life pain she’s carrying.
I think this interests me more than sex, if I’m honest. I want to know all the down and dirty details that make a normal person’s life real.
I want to experience something genuine through her.
Something I can’t experience anywhere else. Something no one else can.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and toss my empty cider cup into a trash bin as I round the corner of the tractor pull and toward the woman I purchased.
She’s much shorter than I expected, more na?ve looking too.
The picture she posted was evocative. Now, she looks more adorable than sexy, like maybe she’s here for a storybook date.
The innocence radiating from her fires off some primal instinct inside of me.
The one where the big, strong man must protect the princess, though I’m fresh out of red checkered blankets.
I adjust the cuff of my shirt and keep my pace steady and deliberate. I see why she chose this place to meet. It’s hometown wholesome, a lot like that outfit.
She stands just past the corn maze entrance, framed by jack-o’-lantern lights.
For a second, I consider calling this whole thing off.
Seeing a twenty-one-year-old in person, and bidding on one online are two very different experiences.
In one, there’s a screen between us. In the other, I’m a fucking weirdo.
That said, I don’t turn back. I stay tucked around the corner a second longer, studying the way her fingers fidget with the strap of that ridiculous bag. This is what I came for.
A thrill.
A jolt of life.
A piece of something raw that no one else has touched.
A slice of reality that doesn’t exist for me inside my bank account walls.
I step out from behind the popcorn stand, the scent of butter surrounding me as her eyes meet mine. They’re soft and sweet. A little nervous, maybe.
What the fuck am I doing? I used to have morals… at least I think I did.
“You’re Penelope, I assume.” I reach out my hand, and she slides into mine, her hand soft and small.
“Yeah.” Her voice is gentle, youthful. “Sorry I’m late. The road was slow going.”
It’s an excuse, though I can’t figure why she’d lie about it. “You sure?”
“Actually,” she clears her throat and tips her chin up toward me, “the road wasn’t that bad.
I’m just tired, but I know you paid for rested, so…
I didn’t want to admit it. Then I figured you’d be able to tell I was lying, so I told the truth.
Now I sound like an idiot. Sorry. I’ve never sold my virginity before.
” She plays with her long ponytail as she speaks.
“I mean, of course I haven’t, but I mean… I’m nervous is all.”
My cock thumps against my zipper at the thought of her edgy little tirade. This is exactly what I need. Something messy and real. Someone who doesn’t say all the right things. Someone to get my mind working in ways it hasn’t in years. Someone who can defy me, make me think.
I study her face as she stumbles through the words. There’s no polish, no pretense. There are just raw, unfiltered nerves braided into every syllable. She’s sweating the silence between her lines, fingers looping that ponytail like it’s a lifeline.
“This isn’t about sounding perfect,” I say, letting my voice drop an octave. “It’s about honesty. I’ve never experienced anything real, and I’d like to know what it’s like.”
Her brows narrow. “What does that mean? You drank that cider. That was real. You’re standing here at Fall-Fest. That’s real.”
Okay, she is simply precious.
“I should be more specific.” I straighten my shirt as a family walks by with donuts in their hands, the sugar sprinkling to the ground as they move.
“I have this fixation in my head that a virgin is the purest human form. That you represent something not yet edited, something untouched by the world’s bargaining,” I pause, “until now.”
She narrows her gaze. “If you’re talking about my body, you’d be right. I’ve never been touched. Not even a kiss.”
“Not even a kiss? A peck?” It’s hard to believe that, given the way her hips dip inward, and her ass rounds out.
“Never.”
“Can I ask why?”
“No real reason.” She shrugs. “I’m just busy, I guess.”
“Busy? What are you busy with?” The details of her life are interesting to me, like a social experiment.
“Work.” Her eyes are wide and flat as she speaks. “I have three jobs and go to college full time.”
“For what?”
“ For what? ” She taps her foot against the gravel path. “What’s with all the questions? I thought this was about sex?”
“It is.” I clear my throat. “You’re right, but are you against getting to know each other first?”
A hawk caws overhead as she looks me over. “Won’t knowing me ruin the fantasy? Aren’t you supposed to tie me up, make me beg, and tell me how tight I am or something?”
“We could talk about how tight you are if that’s what you’re most comfortable with.” I offer a slow grin.
She nods, wetting her lips. “I think we should stay on topic.”
“Okay.” I walk and invite her next to me, our conversation turning to perversion as we stroll the streets of Fall-Fest when I ask, “How tight are you? Have you ever… used toys? Vibrators, dildos, an occasional cucumber?”
She stares down at the gravel and shakes her head, and a shot of something sick rumbles into my cock.
“Good. I like that. You’re a little lamb. What about clitoral stimulation? You must have done that.”
Her gaze lifts and meets mine for a fraction of a second before darting away again. “No.”
What the hell? “Really? You’ve never even touched yourself? You’re not curious what it feels like?”
Now her eyes have a little defensiveness behind them as she says, “I think I told you. I work nonstop. So, there’s not a ton of time left in the day for jerking off, or boyfriends, or anything else.
So… no touching. I don’t sit around experimenting with myself.
I just… I’m fresh. Totally untouched and never been kissed. This is what you paid for, right?”
“Yeah,” I groan, struggling to adjust myself in my jeans. “You, ugh, mentioned in your bio that you’ve got a protector kink. I’ve never heard that before.”
Her cheeks pink. “Oh… did I write that? I don’t remember writing that.”
“I could show yo—”
“No, that’s not necessary. I, ugh, yeah. I mean, the website asked me about kinks, so I listed off one that I like the idea of… but I’ve never really done anything about it. Obviously.”
“Google made it sound like a daddy kink. You looking for someone to call daddy, little lamb?” I can’t help but grin as I say it.
Her eyes roll to the side, and she glances toward me with a downturned expression. “I’m looking to make money. The website gave me an option for kinks, and apparently, I was feeling free that day.” She refocuses her gaze. “You said online you wanted to talk about the rules or something?”