Page 4 of Cherry Auction

Yes, auctioning off my virginity is insane. Especially when I don’t even know if Iama virgin. But as Moira pointed out when she presented the ludicrous possibility to me last week, “Your doctor’s report says your hymen’s not broken. Not that an unbroken hymen always means anything. But with the amnesia, it’s not like you remember your first time, anyway. So, for all intents and purposes,” she just kept chattering on, “you’re a virgin. It’ll be the first time for you, and that’s the whole point.”

“The whole point ofwhat?” I’d stuttered back at her.

“Oh! Didn’t I say? My head really has run away from me today. The virgin auction.”

She knew I wanted to make big money fast; just like I knew how to cuss and that I’m scared of the dark, I know I need money and that working minimum wage jobs aren’t for me. We’d previously been discussing Moira hooking me up with her friend Quinn so I could shadow her and learn howto be a professional domme. But then Moira got excited about this new opportunity that had come along.

The club,Carnal, was putting on a virgin auction, and it had a big payday.

I’m not an idiot. Or at least I like to think I’m not. I was skeptical.

But then Moira took me by the club one night last week so I could meet everyone else ahead of tonight. It didn’t look anything like it does now. I’m not sure she’d exactly thought through what all the leather and floggers would look like to an outsider, but Quinn saw us walking in and immediately came over. You’d think she’d be intimidating in her shiny black latex—wait, no, it’s not latex, what’d she call it? Oh right, PVC. Her black PVC.

But Quinn’s so down to earth, she had me laughing in seconds, and when she introduced me to the bouncer and the club owner who’ll be the emcee tonight, I felt a lot more at ease.

And then I just thought… Why the hell not? Yes, it’ll mean having sex with a stranger. But whynotdo this now, while I don’t know who the hell I am? Sure, some part of me wonders—what if there’s someone I’m intimate with in the life I lost that I’d be betraying?

But that thought is immediately followed with fury. Because if that was true, then where the hell are they? Why didn’t they come looking for me when I disappeared? Theyobviously didn’t look very hard. Even the news picked up the story and broadcast it everywhere.

I might not know who I am, but after waking up terrified and so, so alone, I know if Ididhave someone, I’d move hell and earth to find them if they up and disappeared.

The coldness inside me suspects the truth is far sadder. There was no one. I was alone in the world. Alone and scared all the time. Afraid of shadows. So why on earth was I in a dark alleyway at ten o’clock at night?

With the kind of staggering money Moira says I could make from the auction, I can really, truly start over. I’ll make my new lifebright. Full of light and good things and friends who’d miss me if I disappeared suddenly.

I can start my new life… and hire a private investigator to find out who I was. People don’t justappearfrom nowhere out of thin air. While I’m busy starting a new life, I still need to figure out who I was.

Are we really anyone at all if we don’t have a past? Everyone I get to know tells me who they are by listing off who they’ve been. I can’t even explain why it’s so important to me. But I don’t feel… real. To myself, even.

There’s a whole person locked away inside me, and I need to know her. I don’t know how to go forward without knowing what was behind me.

And I need to know why I wake up screaming most nights, or I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. I need to knowwhy.

So if I have to fuck a stranger for a chance at all the resources I could ever need to discover who I really am?

You bet your ass I’m going to take it.

Quinn looks at me skeptically from across the beautifully furnished dressing room suite. The whole club is insanely luxurious. There’s a sitting area with a couple of couches so elegant, I can’t imagine actually daring to sit on them. We’re in the open attached bathroom of the suite that’s almost as big as the kitchen back at the shelter. There’s both a showeranda bathtub. I dig my toes into the lush, soft carpet and nod.

“I’m ready to play,” I repeat.

“Okay,” Quinn says, shrugging. “There’s plenty of men out there happy to take you up on it. They’re all but slobbering to get a look at you. But just remember,” she leans over, and I gasp when she yanks a short, sharp knife out from within the top of her thigh-high boots. “We’re all just a room away if you need us.”

“Good lord, do you always keep that there?” Moira asks as she brushes past Quinn. “No, don’t answer that. Just put it away.” Quinn re-sheathes the knife but gives me a significant look.

“Domhn wouldn’t let anyone in who wouldn’t be respectful of the rules,” Moira says. Ah, the famous Domhnall, Moira’s brother, who I’ve not seen hide nor hair of. For as much as it sounds like he dominates Moira’s life and decisions, he’s been surprisingly absent this week. I expected to see him everywhere for as much as Moira talks about him.

“Show Quinn the outfit I picked!” Moira claps her hands excitedly. It makes her boobs bounce obscenely in her low-decolletage’d bandage dress.

I stand up carefully and unwind my robe. I’m wearing a sheer, white nightie with a collared neck that snaps at the back and has cutouts in all sorts of odd places. Moira had to help me get into it, I could barely figure the garment out. If you can call it clothing at all.

Two triangle silk cutouts completely expose my perky medium-sized breasts. My nipples harden from the cool air of the room. The rest of the gauzy, see-through fabric hangs artfully down my waist and hips, exposing my underwear. The crotchless panties are just as functionally useless as the rest of the garment. Well, I suppose it depends on the function one intends the nightie for…

I feel my cheeks heat at the thought. But then, I’ve tried to intensely avoid thinking about what actually happens tonight after the auction. I’ve been singularly focused on the prize.

“Now the shoes!” Moira rushes away towards one of the couches and picks up a shoe box, hurrying back towards me. She opens the box and presents the shoes. “Ta da!”

They’re gorgeous: white heels with lace overlay and gauzy straps that Moira sets to tying up my ankles after she waves me to sit back down on the chair in front of the mirror. They look like wedding shoes. I gulp a little and lift my legs to look. They’re beautiful and fit well. Nopinching.

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