There"s no way a handsome billionaire would pay money for me.
I"m mousey and look like I stepped right out of the nerd brigade. It"s not like the guys were beating down my door, so I figured I"d sell my virginity for some extra cash.
At first, I thought the website was a scam. But when a handsome stranger shows up at my work in a limo and demands that I come with him, I"m swept off my feet"and not in the way I expected.
There"s a rare innocence about her I haven"t seen before.
When I buy her virginity from the website, I think it"s going to be cut and dry. But she"s more than a business transaction, and she"s damn sure letting me know it.
Now I find myself chasing a girl who was supposed to be my subservient little housewife.
I"ll make her bend to my will, though. All it should take is exposing her to pleasures she never knew existed.
Let the games begin"
Heat level: Smokin" Hot
VirginsforSale.com is a 35,000 word romance about a girl who bit off more than she could chew when she tried to sell her virginity on a website. It features a dominant billionaire, a bratty virgin, and some intense between the sheets action. Happily ever after guaranteed.Books by Author:Sky Corgan Books
One would wonder why a girl like me would do something like this"willingly give herself away to a man she’s never met before, promising her complete subservience. Not give herself away. Sell herself. It’s hard for me to be real with myself about it, especially when it makes me feel like a prostitute. But that’s what I’m doing, selling myself to some rich sexual deviant. Equivalent to a mail order bride, but something much much darker.
He will own me for life, be able to do whatever he wants to me. I just hope that it’s everything I’ve ever fantasized about.
I’ve watched my mother work hard and scrimp and save every penny to provide a decent life for us. I’ve witnessed the sleepless nights and tears and been left alone for her double shifts at the diner. I don’t ever want to work as hard as she does to make ends meet. And now I won’t have to.
This will be a blessing for both of us. I’ll give her half of the money, and then as soon as my new owner comes to retrieve me, I’ll move out so that she won’t have to work so hard. I know she won’t understand, and I’m honestly not sure I want to explain. In hindsight, this is probably partially her fault.
My real father bailed the second he heard he’d knocked my mother up. Every time I ask about him, she gives me a different name, so I’m not even sure she remembers who he was. A nameless face in a handful of possible sperm donors. My mom never tried to hide or make an apology for the fact that she was a bit of a skank before I came into the world. She’s retained her beauty throughout all these years, something that, unfortunately, didn’t get passed down to me, but she’s never really been good at finding decent men.
When I look at my mom, I realize that I got almost none of her features, and it makes me sad. She has this gorgeous long straight auburn hair, while mine is the color of mud. It also curls into an unruly mess once it grows past my shoulders, so I make sure to keep it cut just above them. Her face is almond shaped while mine is round. Her nose is long and slender while mine is short and snubbed. She’s modelesque tall with an hourglass figure and double D tits. I’m flat chested and barely 5’2. If you stood us side by side, you’d never be able to tell we’re related. The only thing I inherited from her is her pale blue eyes, but even those are cursed. While she has 20/20 vision, I wear glasses. I’ve always wanted contacts, but she says that glasses last longer for the price. Maybe now that I’ll have my own money, I can get some.
I sometimes wonder who my real father is, not that I suppose it matters in the grand scheme of things. The only father figures I had growing up, besides my uncles, were the occasional flavor of the month that flitted in and out of my mother’s life. Men came and went for her throughout most of my childhood, though never more than one at a time. The only one who ever stood out was this guy named Jason who was a gas station manager. I was ten when my mom started dating him, and for a while, I thought they would get married, as he was the only one who lasted for more than a few weeks. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and I was determined that if she didn’t marry him, I would. Kind, and always with a smile on his face, I thought the world of him. But five months into their relationship, he disappeared. Mom later told me it was because he liked men, too, and she couldn’t deal with that. Whether that’s true or not, I’ll never know because I never saw him again. I can’t help but think it wasn’t, though"that she fucked up in some way and scared him off. I was resentful about that for a while. He was my first real crush, and I quickly realized once I started becoming interested in boys, that I wanted to find someone just like him.
Not very lofty ambitions. Find an older, handsome gas station manager to settle down with. My standards got raised a bit as time progressed. I still like older men, but as my teen years hit, I really began to understand the meaning and power of money.
High school wasn’t particularly kind to me. My mom wouldn’t waste money on new clothes, so my entire wardrobe came from thrift stores, and she set a price limit per item, so I rarely walked away with anything trendy. With my large discount round-framed glasses that made me look like an owl and my faded tops and jeans, I was not very popular. It was easy to resent those who had more money than us, to be jealous over all the things they took for granted. It’s said that money can’t buy happiness, but it damn sure looked like it could from my vantage point.