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Buy Me Bundle

By:Alexa Riley



“No, try the white or cream nightie and tone down the makeup. She looks more like a showgirl than an innocent virgin.” The woman named Samantha is barking orders at the girl who is getting me ready. The assistant hops to and races off to find the right outfit, her long, curly red hair bouncing behind her.

I cringe inwardly at the comment. I'm not sure I want to look like a showgirl or an innocent virgin, but what choice do I really have? I’ll do whatever will get me the most money at this point. I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. Figuratively and literally. Maybe it wasn’t me exactly who made the bed, but I sure helped tuck myself right into it. If I’m doing this, I might as well get all I can out of it. If switching out a nightie and playing up my virginity will do that, then that’s what I’m going to do.

“She's right.” At her words, I look over to the woman standing at the station next to me. She most definitely looks like a showgirl, but I'm pretty sure that's what she's going for. “Innocent virgin will get you a whole lot more money.” She winks at me and starts applying more lipstick to her already very red, plump lips. The lipstick makes her big blue eyes pop, and I can’t help but be envious of how utterly gorgeous she is. It’s like she stepped right off the pages of Maxim magazine. She has to be at least five feet nine, and if she wears the heels she has sitting on the ground next to her, she’ll be well over six feet and almost all legs. Her shoes look like they cost a couple thousand dollars, making me wonder why she’s even here if she can afford shoes like that.

Slipping off the topaz dress, I examine the white nightie the redhead brought back.

“How much more?” I ask, unable to help myself. I need a hundred grand for this to actually be worth it. That’s the amount that will keep my father from losing our land, which he so easily gambled away. A piece of land that my mom fought to keep alive, gone after one poker game my father should’ve never been in. How could he be so stupid? Or does he just not care? I wonder what he’d think if he knew what I was doing to get the money back. I’m sure he’ll find out soon enough, when I’m not home in the morning. Come tomorrow, I’ll be owned by some random man and I’ll no longer be a virgin.

“Hmm.” She stops applying her lipstick, giving me a full once over. “Virgin, right?”

I nod my head, wondering if it’s that easy to spot a virgin. Is there, like, a sign on my forehead that I’m not seeing?

She gives me a wicked smile. “They always go to the highest bidder, and you’ve got the whole ‘innocent’ thing going too. Men eat that shit up. I'd say at least two hundred thousand.”

I'm sure my eyes bug out, because she laughs at my response.

“I'm Kim.” She reaches her hand out and shakes mine. She’s got such soft skin and her nails are perfectly polished. I look her over. She’s so put together she looks like she’s not entirely real.

“Stella,” I reply.

“I gather that, as you’re a virgin, this is your first time at the Mistress Auction?” She arches an eyebrow at me, a half-smile playing across her red lips.

“All around virgin you could say.” I try to joke to help with some of the fear snaking up my spine. It’s an eerie feeling, knowing there is a group of men not far away, waiting to buy my body. Waiting to buy me.

“This is my fourth. The same guy just keeps buying me. When our contract is up, I always come back, and each time I go up he buys me again.”

I can't tell by her tone if she likes that or not. “Sounds kinda sweet in a weird kind of way. Why not just go ahead and extend your contract with him?”

Each person who is bought as a mistress is locked into thirty-day contract. You get half your money up front and the other half when the thirty days are over. The buyer has to pay an additional ten percent to the house so the mistress isn’t responsible for fees. That’s what I gathered from the mountains of paperwork, non-disclosures, and extensive medical exams I had to endure to enter into the Mistress Auction. If it wasn't for all of that, I’m not sure I would be doing it. Everything seems to be done to protect everyone, and though I’m desperate, I’m not willing to risk my life. When your contract is up, you can enter into a longer Mistress agreement at a newly negotiated price with your current buyer, but if it wasn't a good fit you’re able to enter the Mistress Auction again if you like. I didn't want to be anyone’s mistress, though the perks do seem rather nice. Your every need will be met, and your only requirement is to be ready and willing when your buyer comes knocking on the door of wherever he’s put you. I want to be more than someone’s property, so I know this will be my one and only auction. When the contract’s up, I’ll be going my own way.

“Got to keep him on his toes,” Kim says, breaking into my thoughts. She gives me a wink like I should know what that means. It all seems a little silly to me, but now I know how she afforded the expensive shoes.

“What if he doesn’t bid on you?” She seems so confident, but I guess if I looked like she did I would be too.

“Oh, he will. Men love a good chase, and I love being chased. I think it’s just part of our game now, and Samantha doesn't seem to care. She keeps getting her ten percent, and we keep having a good time.” It’s then I see something like a twinkle in her eyes.

“And if someone else outbids him and wins you?”

“One thing I can tell you about the men out there is Samantha knows what she’s doing. She makes sure the girls being auctioned off are high quality, and ensures bidders are of an equally high standard”

The word ‘quality’ makes my stomach turn. It’s almost like I’m at a cattle auction or something. If the men out there are such great catches, what are they doing here?

“If these men are so good why can’t they find women on their own? I know why I’m doing this; I need the money. But I’m sure if they’re rich enough to spend fifty thousand dollars on a mistress for a month, they could easily find a woman on their own who wouldn’t cost them so much.”

“You really are quite innocent aren't you?” The way she says it doesn't seem mean or hateful, more like she’s come to a realization. “Likely most men would end up paying the same price either way. Gifts, dinners, and trying to get a woman into bed, it adds up. Here, things are simple and to the point and wrapped up rather nicely. They don’t have to worry about missing a date with you or calling you every day. They can come and go as they please, and we aren’t supposed to question that. Everyone here knows what they’re getting, and this isn't necessarily about finding love. You’re about to be bid on by some the richest and most powerful men in the world. They like discreet, and Samantha makes sure they get that.”

Adjusting the straps of the white nightie, I look into the full-length mirror. I look...sexy. Not something I ever really think when I look at myself. I’m more a jeans, shirt, and cowboy boots kind of girl. I like functional and comfortable.

My black hair hangs in waves down my back, almost to my ass. I actually forgot how long it really was because I always keep it in a ponytail and out of my face. The eye make-up Red put on me makes my silver eyes seem to shine, and whatever she put on my lips makes them look plump and full. Maybe they’re that way on their own and the lipstick makes them more noticeable. I see myself in the mirror but it doesn't feel like me.

I grew up working on our farm on the outskirts of Las Vegas, manly raising sheep and a few hogs. I wonder if whoever buys me will have me accompany them to events or if I’ll just be stored away in a condo somewhere. I know nothing about going to formal events, or even wearing heels. I could possibly kill myself in them.

I wanted to go to school, but I had to do my part since my mother passed away three years ago. I realized over time that she took so much more with her than just herself when she died. The farm has slowly been slipping through my fingers. It’s hard keeping a farm functional in the desert, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t hold on to it. My father talked me into not going to college, saying he needed all the help he could get, and once it was all settled, I could try to enroll. I just couldn't say no. He’d always bring up my mother and talk about how hard things were now that she’s gone.

I'm second guessing myself and this decision as I wonder if I'm just delaying the inevitable downfall of the family farm.

I shake off the negative thought. I can use this money to pay off the farm loan he owes the casino or I can use it to start somewhere fresh. Or maybe, just maybe, I can get enough to do both. Pay off the loan, wipe my hands clean of everything, and move on.

My father keeps dragging himself into the city every night to gamble and drink until he can't even walk. I have to go pick him up at least four times a week, and oftentimes I need help getting him out to the car. He’s a big man, and I’m barely five feet four. I may weigh a little more than I should, but that sure isn't muscle adding to the pounds. All my extra weight seems to go to my ass, hips, and boobs, and that does nothing to help me. The last time I had to go get him was the worst. He didn't have the money to pay for the private poker tournament he’d entered, and the debt needed to be paid or they'd be taking the farm. I‘d been busting my ass trying to keep that place from the bank to begin with, barely making ends meet, and my father just pissed it all away in one night like it was nothing. Like we didn't have other families who also depended on that farm to make a living. He didn’t think about the salaries we needed to cover, and that it wasn't just about us. If the farm was only about us, I’d have left years ago.