Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Showering is a strange experience, as though I'm preparing an animal for slaughter. When I wash between my legs, I shudder to think what I'll feel like there when all of this is over with. Will it feel good? Will it hurt? Will I bleed?
When I'm dressed and made up, I push my feet into my white kitten heels, take a quick glance at myself in the mirror and smooth my hands over the white dress, finding the material warm and silky. I'll fasten the mask over my eyes when I get to Club Scarlet. I might be showing these men my body tonight, but my face will remain covered, as will theirs.
My hand fumbles as I pick up my purse and retrieve the keycard from the table by the door. In the elevator, I press my back against the cool mirrored side, conscious of the space between my legs that has never felt as warm and tight as it does now. My awareness of my whole body is static and unfamiliar, and once again, I watch numbers decreasing like a countdown of time. Floors ten, nine, eight, and seven. My stomach drops. Floors six, five, four, and three. I grab the railing, needing an anchor point.
Two.
One.
There's a jolt as the elevator comes to a stop, followed by an echoing pause of womb-like silence. Then the doors open, and I step forward into a new life.
It’s just a short walk, but it seems to take forever to get to the entrance to Club Scarlet.
Room twenty-eight is on the fourth floor.
I take a deep breath.
One month.
And then I'll be free.
2
LYLE
LITTLE SPARROW
"Leave it to Kylian to find the fanciest whorehouse in the city."
My older brother ignores me as he strides toward the elevator.
This isn't a whorehouse. It's an exclusive sex club. Somewhere luxurious where the rich and depraved indulge in their predilections. Like-minded individuals meet to work out their sexual kinks. And us? Well, we're meeting a woman whose virginity we've purchased. Virginity and so much more.
I have mixed feelings about sharing a woman with my brothers, and I'd like to stop for a drink at the bar I spot in the corner of the lobby, but we're running late, and Ky is eager to find out if his investment is worth all the money we've paid.
We look like we're attending a fucking costume party. My middle brother, Nate, always cautious, insisted we wear masks. They're basic black masks that cover the top part of our face, but they're ridiculous.
But better we look stupid than someone recognize us and post our picture online, he'd explained. "Aston brothers seen at Chicago sex club." Our father would love that.
I don't think we need to worry. From the look of this place, anyone who can afford to come to Club Scarlet would have a lot to lose from bad publicity. Discretion was assured as part of the contract.
In the elevator, my mind goes to our prize, who called herself Little Sparrow in the auction. Will she look as good as she did online? It's been too long since I've had a virgin and never an anonymous one. Sex hasn't been especially pleasurable for quite a while. When something is easily achieved, it's never as satisfying, but my dick's been stirring at the thought of Little Sparrow, so the night holds promise.
I'm not sure how I feel about sharing her with my brothers, though.
"How's this going to go down?" Nate asks Kylian, just as the chime indicates our floor. "Who's going to actually take her virginity?"
"I will, of course." Kylian's dry chuckle doesn't give any clues as to whether he's serious or joking.
"Why should you decide?" I say.
Kylian takes a hard turn and leads us down a long, narrow hall lined with countless doors. Maybe I'd be better off choosing a random room and having my own adventure instead of going along with Kylian and his kinky obsession.
But Sparrow was very appealing.
"Actually, we'll let our virgin decide," Kylian says cryptically as he slides the card into the door of room twenty-eight. "But whoever takes her virginity has to have us all in the room. I'm not missing out on that."
The room is spacious and elegant but sparsely decorated, with no more than a bed, a couple of chairs, and a table. The walls are covered with an ornately patterned wallpaper, a couple of tasteful soft-focus black and white prints of female nudes, and a large horizontal mirror adjacent to the bed.
My eyes go to the woman seated at the edge of the bed with her hands folded in her lap. She's tiny—little, like her name suggests—and I'm afraid one of us might break her in two, or at least injure a wing.
She doesn't look up, and when we get closer, I see that her folded hands are shaking and she's clasping them tightly, trying to keep herself together.