Princess Diaries (10): Bell Auctioned


I Ubered to my auction carrying several outfits in a garment bag. I wore jeans and babydoll T-shirt in case someone wanted to fuck the girl next door.Nicolette ushered me into makeup as soon as I walked in. Within an hour she had me presentable. I wore a beautiful emerald green velvet corset with black lace accents and matching green pumps, black thigh high nylons, and panties with garter straps attached.“I don’t look like a virgin,” I observed in the mirror, a high class hooker from an Elizabethan boudoir looked back.“We could show them a picture of your hymen and let them bid,” snarked Nicolette, “but we’ll get higher bids showing off the attractive packaging that silly flap of skin comes wrapped in.”“Silly flap of skin,” I repeated, giggling quietly.“Silly and profitable,” she added, “thanks to our obsession with purity and virgins.”She took me down the hall into a bedroom with severe modern decor, lots of whites and grey neutrals accented here and there with splashes of black and deep red. She seated me on a light grey, almost white, blocky leather settee. On a little rolling table about four feet In front of me purched a laptop with a video camera clipped to the screen. Nicolette tapped the keyboard, waking it up. I could see a small version of myself on the screen. The settee and the wall behind it were almost washed out by my dark outfit and shiny brown hair.“Wow, I really pop-out,” I said, lamely.“Old fashioned corset on a modern couch, brunette in frilly green and black lingerie against an austere neutral white background, soft round curves sitting on hard square furniture…”“Slutty outfit, virgin girl,” I completed.“Exactly,” she said, “Contrast. To remind them they’re buying a virgin they can fuck like a whore.”  Nicolette adjusted the light level while I preened for her. Satisfied with the lighting, she adjusted me and explained the remote viewing setup.“When it’s time, we’ll turn it on so they can see you. You won’t see them, but we have mics on both ends, so you can hear their questions and orders,” she said.“What kind of orders?” I asked.“Mostly it’s to move around so they can see you. They might ask about your personal life. They might ask you to pose, or act like a whatever fantasy they want filled,” she said. Sternly she added, “even if they ask, don’t undress, masturbate, or stick anything in your mouth.”“Just say ‘no’?” it seems wrong somehow.“Deflect, instead,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a skill you’ll need to learn quickly. Be coy, flatter them, whatever. Just get the point across without being negative or saying ‘no’, outright.”“They want to see personality so you be Alanna,” she said, emphasizing my stage name, “Bell is back home doing homework, and Alanna doesn’t know her. She can be anyone.” –Their questions and requests sounded quaintly innocent after the cum drenched weeks of sodomy I’d just experienced. The first question regarded the genuineness of my breasts. What else! They asked how I was doing, how I liked my outfit, if I was a virgin, how old I was, if I was nervous, was I eager. All things banal, they asked.I turned around for them, wiggled my butt, leaned to the side, leaned forward and open my mouth to the camera so they could count my teeth, I guess. One guy wanted me to do a cheer. I channeled Cindy as best I could. Who has a fantasy about a brunette cheerleader? Seriously. Another wanted me to pull down my panties so he could see if I was really shaved. I offered to show him my bald pussy if he had the highest bid. I almost screwed up and mentioned he could always pay for my services after. The point was to pay the most now. Discounts wouldn’t do. A woman asked the strangest question of the whole session: was I a good girl? She asked ankara travesti me like a queen asks her slave, or toy poodle. Wierdly, this was the only real question. The only one I had to think about. I decided to respond as coyly as I could, saying: I tried to be but, sometimes I was bad. I tried to blush as I turned demurly away from the camera. Eventually the little red light on the screen blinked off. The show was over. In an unseen room, the bidding began. I wouldn’t witness it, sadly. –Nicolette dragged me to the dressing room again just a few minutes later.“Well?” I asked. I wanted to know what I was worth.“You did well in the interview,” she said. She grinned at me, “You were a very good girl, Alanna!”“Stop teasing me, NIcolette,” I said.“You did well in the auction too,” she added with a smile, enjoying her secret.“Gah!”“Okay, okay! A hundred and eight.” “Dollars!” my stomach dropped.“Grand. A hundred and eight grand, you dumb cow,” she mocked. With relish she added, “A three way bidding war! We started at fifty, inside a minute you were at eighty. You beat the last girl by twenty percent.” I would get a quarter of that, minus tax. I sat in stunned silence as Nicolette removed and reapplied my makeup with a lighter touch, no false eyelashes. She got me out of the corset and lingerie and into a cute sleeveless shift style cocktail dress with dark blue floral print. The dress only came down to my upper thigh so I went bare legged, sexy nylons and garters were out. I got to wear my favorite strappy Jimmy Choo sandals, though. “You’re going to dinner and then to a home for the night,” she said. I just nodded. “I don’t like sending fresh girls off site, but I really can’t do otherwise at that price. I know you can handle a lot, but do what you’re comfortable with and if anything goes south take off your watch, we’ll come get you.”She put my ‘Alanna’ gear in a small purse and handed it to me. “Your buyer requested a sexy good girl, not a slut,” she offered, “at least not until you’re alone. Are you ready?”I nodded and she took me out to meet my first, and best paying, client which turned out to be senatorial looking older woman.“Alanna, meet Valerie,” said Nicolette, “she will be your client for the next twelve hours.”I’d expected a guy. Valerie greeted me with a smirk, she’d seen my hastily hidden surprise. I’d already fucked up. After a bit of conversation and a farewell between the two women, we departed. A sleek black chauffeured benz of some kind met us at the curb. As I got in, my stomach flipped. I was really doing this.“How old are you really, Alanna?” my client asked, as the car pulled away from the curb.“Twenty-one,” I said. Be consistent, Nicolette had said. I’d told the bidders I was Alanna’s age.“You’re as much twenty-one as I am,” she said. She fixed my with a serious gaze, “tell me.”“I’m not suppos-”“Tell me,” she interrupted.“Sixteen,” I said. What a pushover I am.“Ha,” she leaned her head back, “I guessed closer to eighteen.”“I’m ahead of the curve, I guess,” I said.“Oh yeah,” she agreed. “No one thought you were twenty-one. Made bidding fierce.”“I don’t mean to pry,” I said, “Why would you want a virgin?”“Pfah, I don’t. Why virginity is valued so highly is beyond me. Maybe they love conquer-”, she trailed off. “It’s absurd, really. Don’t you think?”I shrugged. “For that much money, I’ll agree with most things.”“Hmm. Tell me, really. Are you really pure?”“I’m a virgin,” I said, no need to point out how much cum I’d swallowed in the last two weeks.“Perfect, then,” she said. “Ted will love you.”“Your husband?” I asked. Thinking of Oz and Nicolette, I asked, “Are you going to join or watch?”“Hmm, pure but not too innocent, then,” she smiled at me travesti ankara appraisingly. “You’ll have to do better with Ted. You’re his surprise birthday gift from me. This in one gift I don’t want to watch my husband unwrap.”I had nothing to say to that. Having established the rules, Valerie seemed content to sit back and watch the scenery fly by. The awkward silence left me time to think. Obviously she wouldn’t be participating, so how would that work out after introductions? Would she gift me and leave? This was a date and an overnight stay, would she be on the date and then leave after? Valerie answered my questions soon enough, when the car pulled into a side street in hilly North Beach. Looking out the window, I could see the neon sign for a restaurant; Bix, my obvious destination.“Alright dear, this is your stop,” said Valerie. She handed me an envelope, the kind birthday cards come in. ‘Ted’ was written on one side in a neat scrawl. “For him.”“What does he look like?” I asked, taking it. “What should I tell him?”“Ask the maitre’d to take you to Ted ______’s table. Hand Ted the envelope, it should take care of the rest,” she explained pleasantly. “Now, good bye Alanna.”Before I got out I had one more question. “What if you hadn’t won the auction?”“Well, there’s always other girls in stock,” she explained. “Some cute innocent looking thing would deliver that envelope in any case.”The door closed and the benz rolled quietly away. It occurred to me I could call an Uber right then and stop this. But.. the money. I’d be making so much. And getting a proper fucking for once. I creamed a little.Bix is an elegant two level warehouse like space, but posh, with a live jazz pianist accompanied by a bassist playing quietly in one corner. The hostess took me up to the balcony, which ran along the back wall giving views of the bar and the musicians. I searched the faces of the men at each table as we approached. With each face, I wondered, ‘could I fuck him?’ And then we would pass by, and I would be relieved. I hadn’t seen any men I wanted to sell my cherry to. Finally we approached the last table where a man sat, back to me. The hostess waved me on. I thanked her and screwed up my nerve.“Hello, Ted,” I said, as I walked into his view. The man looked up at me with curiosity that quickly transformed into intrigue. He’d expected his his wife and got me, instead. His eyes dilated and he smiled widely. It’s always gratifying to see a man’s attraction so clearly. I handed him the card, suggestively adding, “Valerie says ‘Happy Birthday’.”I sat down across from Ted as he opened the card, a look of complete astonishment on his face now. Ted wasn’t a bad looking man. Steel grey hair, strong jaw and nose, blue eyes. I could imagine Valerie and he posing handsomely for a family portrait. I could imagine this man being my first. A bubble of tension burst inside me. I exhaled and smiled.He put the letter aside and stared at me for a long moment.“I’m Alanna,” I said, finally.“Um, yes… Ted. I’m Ted. And you’re Alanna,” he repeated nervously. Maybe this was his first time, too. “I have to ask, do you know what the letter says?”“Well, I know why I’m here,” I said, remembering Nicolette’s advice on negatives. I could see he wanted me to elaborate. “I’m your birthday present from Valerie.”“Hrm, exactly what kind of present are you?”“The kind that stays for breakfast,” I said. The insinuation turned me on, I squirmed a bit in the chair.A server dropped by with a martini for Ted. He asked me if I knew what drink I wanted. I hadn’t read a drink menu, so I asked for sparkling water.“Let’s order,” said Ted, picking up his menu. I perused the selections. “Alanna, are you old enough to drink?”“I’m ankara travestiler your present, Ted. How old do you want me to be?” I asked, turning the tiring question around on him. He blushed furiously. Valerie said I’d be perfect for him. Virginal and young, then.“I’m sixteen,” I said, helpfully. “I just got my license.”“Thank you,” he said, obviously relieved he didn’t have to ask me to play schoolgirl. He cleared his throat, “and, you’ll do anything?”“Within reason, yes.” I gave a perky shrug, trying to keep it light. What icky thing did he want to do with a school aged girl?“Any fantasy?” he asked, his voice deep. Again I nodded, trying to look encouraging. This guy seemed more sweet than icky. “Then call me ‘Daddy’.”“Anything you want, Daddy!” It occurred to me he didn’t know I was a virgin and in a moment of pure inspiration, I added, “you know I always do what you ask. I’m a good girl.” Ted leaned back, relaxing for the first time. His blue eyes were dilated and almost complete pupil black, now. Jackpot. Ted had a massive hardon, I didn’t need to see it to know. ‘Daddy’ wasn’t so sweet after all. On the plus side, I knew what the guy wanted so I played it.“Daddy, school lunch sucked. I’m super starving,” I said, picking up my menu.“Ehrm, yes, I like the…,” he started describing the menu. We order food and drinks. I had a sprite, just like a good girl would. After the server took our order, Ted asked me about my school day. I channeled Jasmine this time, to avoid personal questions. She was rich, like this guy’s daughter would be, and smart and innocent. I made up names of other friends, but I talked about all Jazzie’s school subjects. Ted ate it up.I laughed. I was a girl, playing a prostitute, pretending to be a more innocent girl.“What’s so funny, sweetie?” he asked. “Oh,” I took a sip of water, thinking. I needed explain my laugh. So I made a story about Ken running into a pole as he walked by me in P.E. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person named Ken.“Why was that?”“Distracted. You know-” I shimmied my shoulders back and forth making my breasts sway.Ted cocked an eye, looking stern, “And what were you doing?”Jealousy. How did he want this to play out? I decided to be bad, nineteen-fifties bad. “Jumping jacks,” I said. Then I thickened the plot as innocently as I could, “You know we’ve been going steady since after New Year, Daddy.”“Yes, of course,” he improvised. I could see him enjoying his role as much as I was. “Alanna, is Ken doing anything he shouldn’t?”“Whatever, do you mean?” I asked, trying not to affect a Scarlet O’Hara accent.“I mean, is he trying anything you don’t want him to? On dates.”I blushed and looked away, “well, he tries.”Ted feigned appropriate outrage.“But Daddy, I always tell him I’m saving myself for someone special.”If felt cheesy to say, but Ted sat back again, like before, genuinely astonished and turned on. He wanted young and taboo and virginal. Did the card from his wife say I was a virgin? “That’s good to hear, Sweetheart,” he said, finally.I ate lightly, he did, too. I guess we both knew what would be happening later. We didn’t stay for dessert. Ted lived nearby, so we walked. “I’m cold, Daddy.” I only had the slip dress to keep me warm in the cold night.Ted pulled me close, arm around my back, hand on my waist. More friendly than a father should be, but not outrageously so. He lived in a three story modern monstrosity on the North side of North Beach. From the entrance, we walked up three flights of stairs to the main living area. There was a forty foot wide floor to ceiling window giving us an unobstructed view of the Wharf, piers, and Bay Bridge.“Woah,” I said, looking at more than the view. I’d browsed enough furniture catalogs to know the couch facing the view cost at least fifteen thousand dollars. The chandelier over the six thousand dollar marble dining table went for either four or six grand, depending on the length. All that in one room of a three story house overlooking the city.

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