Page 32 of Highest Bidder

I stepped out and dried off quickly then ran a brush through my wet hair.

The black leather collar sitting in stark contrast to the white marble reminded me that, no, this wasn’t romance. This was transactional. I’d sold myself to him. So, whether he chose to be kind or cruel, it didn’t matter. I was still just his property for the month.

But something in me wanted to believe this could be more. Maybe he was seeing me as something more than the whore he’d bought.

But then I went downstairs, and that thought evaporated into thin air.

~~~~

I walked back into the kitchen, still damp from the shower with Jeff’s collar once again secured around my neck.

He didn’t look at me. Just said, “Island. Up. Spread your legs.”

I hesitated for a second, then climbed onto the counter without a word. The marble felt cool against my skin as I spread my legs like he wanted.

He turned toward the stove again and flipped something in the pan, like this was normal. Like my pussy on display was as routine as making eggs.

He didn’t touch me at first. Just looked.

Then, casually, he reached over and ran two fingers between my folds before smirking. “You’re wet, whore.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know if it was from the shower or from being objectified. I guess to him, it didn’t matter.

Another minute passed with my legs spread wide. He plated breakfast like nothing was out of place. Then his fingers brushed my clit, and he smirked again when I flinched.

My face burned. Not from embarrassment at having my pussy on display, but from how wet I knew I was becoming. Again. Just from being looked at and touched like a thing.

I hated how easy I made it for him.

But I didn’t move. I stayed spread open, like his obedient whore on the counter, because that’s what I was. That’s what I’d agreed to be for the low, low price of one hundred thousand dollars.

Maybe the worst part wasn’t being owned and used for his pleasure. It was how much I liked it.

****

Jeff

I let her eat at the table with me.

She looked unsure when I pulled out the chair, like it might be a trick. It wasn’t. I just wanted to see her across from me, naked but for the collar. Mine.

I cut into my omelet and said, “What are you majoring in?”

She paused mid-bite to answer, “Psychology.”

“Hmm.” I wasn’t sure why I thought it’d be something like business or education.

After taking a swig of coffee, I asked, “Favorite subject?”

“Social deviance.” She smiled faintly, then pressed her lips together to quell it.

Of course it was.

I nodded. “That explains some things.”

She didn’t respond, just watched me for a moment. “Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“No, I have a trust fund, so I never thought much about what I wanted to be when I grew up while I was younger.” I took a bite of my breakfast. “But by my second year in college, I realized I wanted to actually do something with my life. Do something that mattered. Medicine seemed to check all the boxes.”

---