Page 3 of The Ties We Break

“I’m not…”

Sian interrupts what I’m sure would be a very humiliating explanation, and I couldn’t be more grateful. “Boo, you don’t have to explain. Your private life is your own business, and if you want to keep it to yourself, I completely respect that. But in return, you must respect that I don’t tell you things.”

“I can respect that, but I’d like to know more about Shades and how you made money. If you’re okay telling me, that is?” I inquire whilst looking hopefully at my friend.

“Sure. So, I put myself on the lower end of the auction schedule, which basically means I’m only looking for light kink. I told them I’m submissive, looking for a Dom for the night. I gave a list of things I like and my hard limits. I told them I must have a safeword or I wouldn’t participate. I’m happy to be bought by multiple people, including women, and am open to experimentation. I don’t allow anything that leaves marks permanently, but a sore ass for a day or two is encouraged. I just want to try new things and learn more about myself and my body. I explained I had subbed before and was trained to a certain level,” Sian says, looking over at me to check if I’m still following along. My frozen expression has her pausing, and I nod for her to continue.

“I was bought by a man who gave me one hell of a fucking night, Is. He pushed me to places I’d never even dreamt of going, and I loved it. I’ve met up with him again at the club to scene, but neither of us is looking for a long-term commitment. He paid the club ten thousand Euros for me, and I got nine thousand. They keep ten percent of the price for hosting. Oh, and when I say we met up to scene, that basically means that we act out a sexual fantasy that we have created together, meeting both of our sexual needs. As long as we follow each other’s limits, we just let it evolve a little like a scene would in a film. So if someone says they want to scene with you, that’s what it means.”

I’m brought out of my bubble at the mention of the money she made, but also what they kept. “Isn’t that a lot for them to keep?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too naive.

“They earn it, Boo. They make sure to screen all the applicants prior to the bidding, and if someone who bids on you is not a suitable match, they won't allow the bid to go through. I had a man bid on me, but he liked blood play, which is one of my hard limits, and so they refused his bid. Even if he promised not to do blood play with me, they can’t take that risk. They want all their members to be safe. Everyone has a full sexual health screening before joining the auction or requesting a bidding plate. It’s a really well-run process, Issy, but it’s not for everyone.”

Her words echo around my mind as I try to take them in. There’s so much in the statement that I don’t understand. It makes me feel like a schoolgirl playing dress-up at her mum’s dressing table. Except, I don’t have a mum, and I am a grown-up. So, I need to pull my big girl panties up and do what is needed to get me the money I need to get the hell out of here.

“I want to see the club,” I state, hating how shaky my voice goes at the end. So much for sounding confident.

“Issy…”

“Look, Sian, I’m not saying I will sign up, but I need to see what it’s all about. I need money, and right now, this is my best option.”

“Okay, Boo, have it your way. We may as well go tonight. Friday is a busy night, so there will be plenty to see, and I can sign you in as my companion. You will be given a black and gold wristband to wear, and you must have it visible at all times. The black means you’re not available and are just watching, the gold means you aren’t a full member yet. I will explain more when we’re there because I can almost hear your brain ticking from over here.” Standing, she walks over to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room as she explains the wristband system more.

“I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to start.” I sigh, beginning to feel overwhelmed, whereas Sian simply chuckles to herself.

Pulling her phone out, she types out a message while I wait, before finally looking up with a smile. “All will be revealed tonight, but it is much better to show you in person. I need to take a picture of your driving licence so they can do your background check before you get there tonight. Have you got it with you?” she asks, my eyes growing as wide as saucers. What kind of a place needs to conduct a background check?

Sian’s laugh lets me know I said it out loud instead of in my head. “This is the type of place people come to if they want to try new things, or to explore their personal needs whilst maintaining their relationship. Or they just want to try things safely, and in some cases, away from the public eye. There are members in this club that are important people with high-ranking jobs, but when they put on their wristbands, they become nobody like everyone else in the room. When you become a full member, you will be asked to pick a club name. If you choose to tell people your real name, that is up to you, but most people don’t. People pay a lot of money for anonymity, which is why you will be made to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement before you can go in. I promise you that it’s safe, and if you want to leave at any point, we will leave. Deal?”

Sian holds her hand out for me, like she always has since we were little. But not to shake hands. Instead, we link our pinky fingers together and shake on it. It’s our version of a pinky promise, one we’ve stuck to all this time.

“Okay then, let’s go and eat before Mum sends a search party. Then you can go home and get dressed. I will pick you up just before ten tonight. The live show starts at eleven, so we will have plenty of time to look around before then. Just for the record, I don’t think this is a good idea, and I don’t think it’s the right way forward for you, Boo. But, I know your dad has put you in a terrible situation, which is why, against my better judgement, I’m taking you to the club. I don’t think you are anywhere near prepared enough to join the auction, but I will let you judge for yourself,” she explains, taking my driving licence off me and taking a picture of it. She also takes a snap of me sitting on the bed, but I don’t question it. I have much bigger things to worry about right now. Like, what the fuck do you wear to a night out at a sex club?

Ican hear Sian pipping her horn from the car outside, but I’m frozen in front of the long mirror hanging on my bedroom door. I’m currently wearing my tenth outfit choice, and I’m still not convinced I look hot enough. Sian said just to dress how I usually would, but to try and look a bit sexy in case I decide I want to put my name down for the auction. That’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about since Sian mentioned it, and I honestly have no idea what I want to do. Part of me wants to run as far away as possible, to hide in a fictional world, safely protected by all my book boyfriends, but that’s not real. The real-world side of me knows this is the only way I can get the money I need to live the life I crave. The question is: Can I sell my virginity?

As a lover of all things romance books, there’s no denying I’m a romantic. I love the idea of falling in love; I have just never sought it out. Maybe I blame all those fairy tales I read whilst growing up. All the princess had to do was get herself in danger, and her prince would come along to rescue her. She never had to look for him or tackle the hideousness that is the online dating scene. I’m pretty sure Cinderella never got sent any dick pics.

I never really intended to remain a virgin. I’m not waiting for marriage, or doing it for religious reasons like most would think. I just always imagined that having sex for the first time would be something memorable, that I would share with someone significant. Now, I’m seriously thinking of giving all that up and effectively prostituting myself. That’s a hard pill to swallow. But, hopefully, if I can get the right price, it will be a one-time thing that I can forget about afterwards. Well…a girl can hope!

My phone buzzing from my pocket pulls me out of my daydream. Sliding it out of my denim shorts, I answer without checking the caller ID. I don’t need to look; I can hear her car. In fact, I think I may even be able to hear her faintly shouting. I don’t know whether she is that loud or the walls in my house are that shit.

“Boo! Do not make me come in there! I know you are freaking out, but you wanted this, so get that cute butt out here. NOW,” Sian shouts through the phone before I even have a chance to say hello.

“Be down in a minute,” I reply as I straighten down my silky black top.

To a lot of people, my outfit isn’t sexy; I’m covering more skin than most girls do. But I’m dressed out of my comfort zone, which makes me nervous. The black, silk, vest-style top I have on sits loosely on my shoulders and drapes down my front, displaying a generous amount of cleavage. The silky material stops just above my belly button, revealing a thin strip of alabaster skin between the top and my shorts. The back of the top is the most risqué, as the silk falls from my shoulders, down into a V shape that meets at my lower back, displaying a lot more flesh than I’m used to. Typically, I would pair this outfit with some flats because I’m a big fan of being comfortable, but Sian basically bullied me into wearing heels. Apparently, me looking right really is a big deal to her. So, I squash my feet into a pair of black stilettos and grab my handbag before having one final look in the mirror.

I look different from my normal self, and it isn’t just my clothes. Heavy makeup with dark smoky eyes and ruby red lips makes me look sensual. My hazel brown hair, usually always straight and hanging around my face, is curled and styled into a low messy bun, complete with jewelled clips to keep it in place. There’s no denying that I look sexy. I just don’t feel like myself.

“Pull it together, Issy. You may hate this idea, but it’s the only one you have. Now, pull up those big girl panties, and let’s do this!” I aim my pep talk at the version of me I see in the mirror, trying to remind myself of how important this could be. I need money, and I need it fast. I don’t want to do anything illegal, and I sure as shit am not borrowing money from some unlawful loan shark. The bank has made it very clear I am not eligible for a loan, which is probably a good call. I am, after all, an eighteen-year-old with no job. And let’s not forget the student loans I turned down as I thought I was all set. I’m out of any other options.

Taking a big deep breath, I run down the stairs. I don’t bother looking for my dad; I know he went out a couple of hours ago and hasn’t been back since. God knows what shit he is getting himself into. But, unlike every other time, I’m finding it very hard to care.

Locking the door behind me, I fly into the passenger side. I take a second to appreciate how frickin’ hot my best friend looks. Although it’s difficult to get the full effect with her sitting down, I can already tell Sian looks fantastic. Her black leather corset pushes her already voluptuous cleavage up even further, making them look like cushioned shelves. The corset pulls in her waist and helps emphasise her natural curves. She appears to be wearing a very short, dark purple, flowy skirt, along with heels that can only be described as hooker heels. You know…the ones that have a heel over five inches long and seem only to be worn by women comfortably swinging around a stripper pole. That’s not me judging Sian; if anything, I’m jealous. I would break an ankle trying to walk in those types of footwear, but I also severely lack the confidence required to pull them off. These heels are statement pieces. They say, ‘look at me’, and I don’t want anyone looking at me.

“Boo, check you out!” Sian squeals as I fasten my seatbelt.

Her overly made-up face is lit with joy, like this is the first time she’s ever seen me make an effort. As she flips her bright, dyed red hair off her shoulder and uses the clip in her hand to pull it up into a knot on the back of her head, I notice her unusual jewellery. She’s wearing a thick black choker necklace, which doesn’t match Sian’s style. She is known for her baggy earrings, numerous jangling bracelets, and low-hanging, long necklaces. Not to mention the bazillion rings she always wears, but they are now accompanied by one unusual piece of jewellery. She sees me looking, and lifts her hand to touch it, almost self-consciously. I hate how the smile drops off my friend's illuminated face, so I respond to her initial comment.

---