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He pulls up a stool real close, his camera in his hand as he angles it for a decent view.
“We really need to do this?” I ask, although I’m sure it’s a pointless question.
“It’s imperative we offer video for our auctions. It makes our buyers more invested.”
I wonder if he jerks himself off to them afterwards, then force the idea away.
“Lay back,” he tells me, “make yourself comfortable.”
I do as he asks, leaning back on my elbows. I flinch as he lands a hand on my knee, taking a breath as he eases my legs open.
“That’s good,” he says. “I’ll be doing this as an interview, so answer honestly, and do exactly what I ask.”
I nod, and he clears his throat.
“Our auction lot four of the evening is Amy, a rare specimen indeed. Amy, tell our bidders of your sexual history.”
My voice is so quiet. “I’m a… I’m a um… a virgin…”
I stare up at the camera, and the light is on me, it obscures Claude’s face, and I’m glad. I close my eyes, and in that moment I forget I’m here, in this place with a man who plans to sell me like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I pretend I’m in front of Mr Henley, imagine him watching this video later, imagine him bidding on me.
I take a breath.
“And you’re twenty-one?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Tell me, Amy, what are your hard limits?”
This is my moment, and I know it. I imagine Mr Henley’s stern expression, the way he’ll be watching this video, the way he’ll be wondering if I’m worth bidding on.
“None,” I tell the camera, and I make sure I’m looking right at it. “I have no hard limits. I’ll do… anything…”
“No hard limits, you’re sure about this?”
I force a smile and nod and in my head I’m looking at Mr Henley as he stares down on me like he did when I barged into his meeting room. “I’m sure.”
Claude’s voice grows softer, and my skin prickles, my breath evening out.
“One of our fine bidders is going to win you, Amy, is that what you want? You want one of our fine gentleman purveyors to take your virginity?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to fulfil their every fantasy, yes?”
I picture Alexander Henley’s hands around my throat. How it will feel. “Yes.”
“Are you a dirty girl, Amy? Show our buyers what a dirty girl you are. Show them what feels good.”
Panic. I feel it snaking around my belly. But there’s something else, something that makes me feel so… hot.
Him.
Claude’s voice sounds so far away. “Let our buyers see you, Amy. Take off that pretty little bra.”
My fingers just do it. They fumble with the catch at the back and let the bra fall loose. My tits aren’t really that impressive, so I push them together to make them look bigger, and my nipples are hard as I thumb them.
“Has a man ever touched those sweet tits, Amy?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“How about your tight little pussy? Have you ever had a man touch you there?”
I shake my head again. “No.”
I know what he’s going to say before he says it, so I take a breath and spread my legs for the camera, knowing full well he’s going to be focusing in on my little lace knickers.
I shaved. Everywhere.
I’m so glad I did.
“That’s good,” Claude tells me and I wonder if he’s hard. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
Me. Show me.
It’s not him I think about as I slip my hand between my legs, rubbing my clit through the lace of my knickers. I shift my hips and my thighs fall open, my heart pounding as I focus on how much I want this. How much I want Alexander Henley to see me like this.
I imagine myself in his bed, the scent of him on his sheets, the way I came over and over as I thought of his body against mine.
I can do this.
I close my eyes, and I’m with him. His dark eyes so stern and his jaw so tense as he tells me what he wants from me. What he needs from me.
I tip my head back and my fingers move faster, circling my clit in quick little motions, my back arching as I bring my knees up.
“Take them off,” Claude tells me, and his voice is croaky.
I hook my fingers into my knickers and wriggle them down, letting them slide from my feet. They catch on my sparkly heels for just a second before they drop to the floor.
“Very nice,” Claude says. “Show me.”
My fingers spread my pussy lips, and I hope I’ve got it right. He moves the camera closer, and I guess I’m doing ok.
“Wider please,” he says, and in my mind it’s Alexander Henley doing the ordering.
I hitch my thighs wider still and I pull my lips apart so hard it hurts.
