Buying the Virgin

Chapter 3: The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Three

“Calm down, Charlotte. I promise I am not going to hurt you.” Putting down the glass, he takes me in

his arms, holding me like a little girl and kisses the top of my head. “I won’t hurt you,” he repeats. “Have

your bath. Afterwards, try the dresses for size. They should fit. Your measurements were listed in the

auction ad. I think the black one would suit you well, but you choose.” He retrieves the glass and

pushes it into my hand. “Please drink that. I want you to enjoy yourself.” He grins, wickedly. “Think of

this as…‘the adventure of a lifetime’.”

He is right. I have committed myself. His grin is infectious, and I start to smile as I gulp down the

champagne. “You know,” he says, “it really isn’t meant to be drunk like that. Champagne should be

savoured. Come and have some more.”

Later that evening, I feel great. My nerves have gone. I am having an adventure. I am here for the ride.

At the restaurant, my Master is good company: full of interesting talk and anecdotes. “I don’t want to

embarrass you Charlotte. Here in public, you can call me ‘James’. In private, I am ‘Master’.”

Full of excellent food, and with perhaps just a little more wine inside than is quite good for me, we

return to the hotel. My Master is all courtesy, holding out a hand to invite me to enter the apartment

first, standing behind me to slip the coat from my shoulders, hanging it carefully.

Eyes meeting mine, he takes me by the hand, leading me through to the bedroom.

It is dimly lit, with only a flickering glow from candles scattered here and there.

Standing before me, he strokes my face. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now Charlotte. Because

this is your first time, you don’t know what to expect. No matter what you have seen in movies or read

in books, you just don’t.”

I am trembling with a mixture of excitement, nerves and anticipation. I am confident that my Master will Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

not hurt me more than necessary, but…

He continues. “I am going to undress you, quite slowly, because I am going to enjoy that. I saw you

naked at the auction, but I didn’t like it, seeing you treated like goods. This time I want to undress you

carefully, to enjoy your body and for you to enjoy it too. If you would like to undress me too, partially or

completely, that’s fine, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Are you with me so far?” He takes my

chin in one hand, tilting my face to his so that I must look him in the eye. I nod, gulping and sucking my

dry lips.

“After that, I want you to lie down on the bed and be comfortable. You should be completely relaxed. If

you like, I can turn the heating up or down for your comfort. Would you like me to make it warmer or

cooler?”

I shake my head. I’m fine

“Alright. If you change your mind, tell me. Once you are comfortable, I am going to massage you, kiss

you and enjoy your body. Then I will open your legs and kiss you between them. I will lick and suck

you. That should arouse you to orgasm.” He hesitates. “Have you ever had an orgasm, Charlotte?

Perhaps by doing it yourself?”

“Ummm, I’m not sure. I don’t think so.” I say this uncertainly, but at the mention of licking and sucking

me…down there…a sharp…something…has stabbed through me. I am warm and wet, and my panties

are suddenly, uncomfortably, moist and sticky.

He laughs. “If you’re not sure, then the answer’s ‘No’. When you orgasm, there is no mistaking it.” He

tilts his head and smiles. “That’s very good. I am going to be able to give you your first climax. But

hopefully, not your last.”

“After you have climaxed, I will penetrate you and will have my own climax. By then you should be

aroused enough that your body will be ready for me and it won’t hurt you at all. Do you understand all

that?”

I nod again, but my pulse is beginning to race and my heart to pound, my breathing is heavy.

My Master sees this and smiles. “Good girl,” he says, cupping my face in his hands, and then slowly,

draws me close to kiss me on the lips. First, his kiss is soft, his lips barely brushing mine, then his

tongue slips between my lips, urging me to open my mouth. His tongue traces the outline of my lips

and teeth, then withdraws as he sucks my lower lip. I am quivering uncontrollably now.

Pulling back, he looks at me again. “Don’t be frightened. I promise I am not going to hurt you. I want

this to be wonderful for you.”

“I’m not frightened Master, just excited I think…”

“Listen to your body,” he says. “You’re a grown woman and even if you don’t know it, your body wants

this, wants to be touched. Let yourself go.”

He is right. My Master kisses my neck and the hollow of my throat, his hands running through my hair,

down my shoulders and arms, skimming my breasts, to my belly and hips. Inside I am increasingly

warm, and, between my legs, ever wetter. My breath is in shorts gasps now.

He cups my breasts, bending to kiss them, one at a time through the sheer fabric of my blouse. The

nipples are hard enough to stand out through both bra and blouse and his teeth gently nibble at them.

Tiny though the sensation is, it ripples through me, electric fire down to my sex and, involuntarily, I cry

out, staggering slightly and grabbing my Master by the shoulders to stay upright. He says nothing but

flashes me a pleased smile, teeth white against his tan.

I am beginning to understand what lust is. My nerves are evaporating and I want… I want… I don’t

know what I want, but I want more…

Standing up straight before me, smile still crinkling the corners of his eyes, my Master strokes his

fingers across my cheeks and kisses me on the forehead, then lowers his gaze to the top button of my

blouse. Carefully he unbuttons it, then the second and the third, stroking the fabric aside. Sliding the

blouse back over my shoulders, he lets it drop to the floor, then curving a hand around my back, one-

handedly unclips my bra. As it too falls to the ground, I wonder how often a man must practise the

movement, to undo a bra clip with one hand.

Standing before him, bare-breasted, I am suddenly bashful and cannot look him in the face. Dropping

my gaze, his trousers are bulging at the front. I swallow hard, but simultaneously, heat surges through

me again. I barely know what to do with myself, panting, pulse racing and beginning to flush. I can see

my belly and breasts turning red, glistening with sweat.

“You’re alright Charlotte. It’s perfectly normal. You are aroused. Listen to your body. It has a lot better

idea of what is happening than you do. Just let it flow.”

I glance into his eyes again, and unwilling to trust to words through my shuddering pants, simply nod

again, then find my gaze drawn inexorably to the bulge in my Master’s trousers.

“It won’t bite you,” he says. “It is going to fuck you, but not until you’re ready for it, which isn’t yet.” He

takes my hand, guiding it downward. “Touch me. I’d like you to, and I think you will like it too.”

I touch him, nervously at first, jumping, a little startled as I feel my Master’s cock twitching in response

to me through his clothing, but then more confidently. It is an odd feeling of power, to touch, and feel

the reply to my caress.

My Master embraces me. His hands behind me unzip my skirt, sliding it smoothly down over my hips,

leaving me only my black lace panties, but at the same time, he is lightly pressing his hips, his erection,

against me. Again, there is that twitch, that pulsation, in the contact, and mounting excitement within

me as I realise that, not only does my Master intend to arouse me, but that I can arouse him.

Can I do this? One hand in my Master’s hair, curling and winding it through my fingers, I allow the other

hand to quest over his chest, his stomach, beyond and down. Before I go too far…

“Take my shirt off Charlotte.”

I am smiling now. My Master is right. I must listen to my body. And my body is saying…

I unbutton his shirt. My movements are clumsy. I have never done this before. But now, bare-chested, I

begin to see how beautiful my Master is. His shoulders are broad, narrowing down to a tightly muscled

belly and waist. A fine scattering of hairs across his chest tightens to a fine line leading down the centre

of his stomach and below his belt line. And, as his shirt slides away, I get the scent of him: musky and

spicy, a heady perfume. Is it him? Some aftershave he uses? Or is this the scent of sex?

“It’s alright Charlotte. Touch me if you want to.”