Virgins for sale

chapter 1

Maybe that's another reason why I gravitated towards older men—why I had no interest in boys my own age. Older men had jobs. Older men had money. Perhaps thinking that way makes me a gold digger, but I don't really care. I want security from a man. If I was half as pretty as my mom, I might have had a chance of becoming someone's trophy wife. But that's not the case...so I chose this method instead.

When I read the ad on the fetish website at the library, I couldn't believe my eyes. I read it in chunks, bits and pieces, constantly glancing over my shoulder to make sure that no one else was looking at the screen. Public computers aren't meant for pornography, but I've already read every BDSM book in the sex section, and I figured that if there was a handsome, older, rich dominant man somewhere out in the world for me, I'd find him by looking online.

A quick Google search led me to DaddyDoms.com, a website that connects willing submissives to older men in the lifestyle. The profiles I went through weren't very impressive. Most of the men either weren't attractive or had fetishes that were major turn-offs for me, like skat play or making me wear diapers. The few guys that I did message were either catfish or not interested. The handful of guys that messaged me first, I definitely wasn't interested in. It wasn't long before I began to get discouraged.

And then the ad popped up.

On any website dealing with sex, there will be a ton of ads in the sidebar. Usually, they're targeted at men. Images and videos of women with perfect tits overlaid with text talking about how they're ready to get fucked. Just click here, and you can have pussy galore. This unrealistically attractive women is waiting for YOU. Sometimes, they even have a made up distance so that the guy will think she's nearby. It's designed to draw them away from the dating site they're on and onto another. I've seen them so many times I practically have automatic blinders at this point.

But that's not what catches my eye. There's a solid brown bar at the bottom of the screen with simple white text that says, "Virgins for sale. Buy her once. Own her forever." It's an ad meant to lure men, but I click on it anyway.

The screen that pops up is no more tasteful than the ads in the sidebar of the website I was on previously, but I find myself scrolling down to the footer where there are links to navigate to other less flashy parts of the site, specifically looking for a link to apply as one of the virgins. I find it, click it, and am taken to a black screen with a wall of text and another link at the bottom for the application. Reading through it as quickly as I can, dollar signs flash across my eyes when I realize how much my virginity might be worth, up to $100,000.

Interested girls must send in several photos, both nude and fully clothed, a list of their measurements and shoe size, and a photo ID that clearly displays their date of birth. They must also fill out the application in its entirety. The people who work at the site will assess all the information and decide on a fair asking price. They will submit the amount to the girl, and she can accept or decline to continue with the process. Once that's done, the girl just sits back and waits until an offer comes in.

Even though I couldn't help but feel like it was some kind of scam to trick girls into giving them nudes, I still printed out the application and took it home.

Now here I am, filling it out, which is kind of fun. There's a section of questions on what I will and won't do, and what type of man I want to be with. Instantly, an image of Jason flashes through my mind, his large blue eyes and curly blonde hair.

Reading the long disclaimer page is less fun. Chills run down my spine from some of the things they require once you're sold off—things that would make most girls click away from the website. I will not see my buyer until after I accept the contract, nor be given any information on him. That means I'd be selling myself to a complete stranger. If I decline the first offer that comes in, I will be disqualified from future offers. This is a one chance opportunity. Also, once I'm sold, I give up all consent. The man can do whatever he wants to do with me inside legal boundaries. I must obey his every command, or I'll be forced to return the money. If I let him deflower me, I'll only have to return half of the money.

At least there's that, I think with a sardonic smirk.

My chest feels heavy as I sit back on my bed and think about if I really want to do this. For something that I can easily walk away from, the contract seems to carry a lot of weight.

Brushing my concerns away, I sneak my mom's phone from her purse in the middle of the night and take a bunch of naughty pictures of myself, sending them to my email account before deleting them from her phone and putting it back in her purse.

The next day, I submit my application with all the required information. When a nosy woman standing next to me at the fax machine asks if I'm applying for a job, I simply smile and nod, though I can feel the heat of embarrassment climbing up my neck. No, I'm being an idiot and giving all my information to a porn site.

Weeks pass, to the point that I forget all about submitting my application to VirginsforSale.com. I knew it was a sham to begin with, to be honest.

I fall back into my regular routine, trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my life since it's obvious that no handsome billionaire is going to come sweep me off my feet. I either need to try to find a grant program so that I can go to college or get a job like my mom has been pressuring me to do ever since I graduated from high school.

I spend most of my days at the library, flipping through job ads with a frown on my face before turning to the personals to seek out men who are looking for a housewife. Everything feels hopeless.

But then I get an email.

At first, I almost throw it away thinking that it's spam. I get a lot of spam from the dating sites I've signed up for in the past. The subject line is on par with the rest of them. We found you a match. The only thing that makes me hesitate and click the open button is the sender, VirginsforSale.

I expect to be presented with some naughty graphics of women. I'm not sure why all these websites think I'm a dude when they send me spam. Aren't cookies better than that these days? Then again, I am searching on a public computer.

But the email is plain text with an attachment, and once I begin reading, I realize it's from that website that I submitted an application to so long ago.

Dear Miss Althea Ellis,

We here at VirginsforSale.com are pleased to inform you that we have found a buyer for your virginity. The agreed upon amount of fifty thousand dollars has been transferred into an escrow account. As soon as you accept the buyer's contract, we will send you his picture and name, along with a cell phone. You are not to reach out to the buyer for any reason. He will contact you when he is ready with further instructions.

If you accept these terms, please sign the attached contract and email or fax it back to us, and we will overnight your items to the address you provided. The funds will be deposited into your account once the buyer has informed us that he has made contact with you and that you have fulfilled the terms of your agreement.

If we do not hear from you within seven business days, we will assume that you are no longer interested in working with our company.

Thank you and have a wonderful day.

Sincerely,

The VirginsforSale.com Team

I finish reading, and then my eyes fly up to the fifty thousand dollars part, going over it, again and again, to make sure I'm not seeing things. I remember agreeing to the price initially, but seeing that it's actually being offered to me is an entirely different thing. Is this for real? Does someone actually want to pay fifty thousand dollars...for me? Even if I don't let him own me and just walk away after we do the deed, that's still twenty-five thousand dollars for my virginity. That's enough to put me through trade school or pay for community college. Whether I stay with this guy or not, it's a ticket to a better life.

I know myself well enough to realize that if I take time to ponder, I'll change my mind, so I decide to print the agreement out right away, sign it, and send it back before I have a chance to second guess myself.

I sit at the library for two hours after, waiting for a response from the website, crossing my fingers and praying to God that the man I got matched up with is at least as attractive as I am, which isn't saying much. I'm willing to settle for a little below average as long as he treats me well and I don't have to wait tables for the rest of my life.