The Prema Society (2 page)

“I have been managing the Prema Society for twenty years,” she said, making a note on the sheet in front of her. “It has been my job to find women to fill the unique needs of our clientele. That can range from companionship to more…in depth services. And we always compensate our ladies very well dependent on the contract they are fulfilling.”

“How well?” My curiosity was piqued.

“Well,” she looked at me again. “One young woman provided several months of companionship for a visiting dignitary from eastern Europe. She received a salary of $600,000.”

My mouth dried up to the consistency of cotton. “And I could expect something like that?”

“Oh, no. What we have in mind for you is more in depth. Your services will be required for at least a year, so we are looking in excess of $1.5 million dollars.We would also bear some of the other costs.”

“What will I have to do?” My lips felt numb at the thought of $1.5 million dollars.

“Well, before we get to that, we need to verify some information. You are a virgin, correct?”

“Yes,” I flushed.

“Your age?”

“I’m 22,” I said softly.

“And your cycles, are they regular?”

“My period?” I could feel my face growing warmer. “Yes, they are.”

“We’ll need to have you take a physical, including a full reproductive work-up.”

“Reproductive work-up?” This was starting to sound intense.

“Yes.” Ms. DeForrest leaned forward and folded her hands in front of her. “Something to ensure you are healthy and can withstand the…rigors of what we’re about to discuss.” My wariness must have shown on my face because when she continued, it was with a soothing tone in her voice. “Not that it will all be work and difficulties. We’ll put you up in an apartment close to your college, and take care of any expenses during the time you work for us. That’s in addition to your pay as one of our girls.”

“To be honest, Ms. DeForrest, this is all making me very nervous. You are offering me money and a rather cushy lifestyle, but I still don’t know what I have to do to earn it.”

The bird-like woman sighed and pulled a sheet of paper out, sliding it across her desk to me. “I cannot discuss it any further unless you sign the non-disclosure form. It doesn’t prevent you from turning us down or bind you to any sort of deal; it just prevents you from discussing it.”

I perused the form carefully as she spoke. Eventually, a pen slid across the desk at me as well. Pursing my lips, I considered my options. Take a job so secretive I couldn’t even discuss it but make a literal million dollars, or walk out the door and go back to my hard-scrabble college life. With a flourish, I signed the form.

She smiled broadly as I handed the paper and pen back to her, even white teeth appearing behind scarlet red lips. She tucked the paper unto a folder and recapped the pen as she drew a breath. “As I said, I’ve been running this place for twenty years. One of our special services for our members is providing them with something they wouldn’t be able to find elsewhere without significant media presence. In some cases, that means young and exotic companionship, both male and female. In others, it’s a very specific service. This case is more of the latter.” She pulled out another sheaf of official looking papers. “I’ve already obtained your transcripts from your college. I can see that you’re a very bright and dedicated young lady.”

“How did you get those?” I’m sure my eyes were as wide as saucers. “The school isn’t supposed to give those out!”

“Yes, well,” she smiled and leaned forward. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know how to get what I want. And I want you in my auction next week.”

“Auction?”

“We’re doing a breeding auction. Young ladies such as yourself will be placed on the stage and offered to the highest bidder. You are likely to fetch a particularly high price.”

“Why?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Because you are a virgin, child. These are rich, powerful men who want children. They want them the old-fashioned way, but for one reason or another, it isn’t happening for them. Some are single, some have wives or girlfriends who don’t wish to bear children, and some can’t have children with their significant others.”

“You want me to sleep with a man I don’t know, allow him to knock me up, and then bear his child?”

“Essentially, yes.” Ms. DeForrest leaned back, her bright eyes taking in my reactions. “We would also offer you ten percent of your auction price, pay for all your pre-natal and hospitalization costs, and set you up in a nice apartment until the end of your contracted obligation. You would sign off on all parental responsibilities to the child, leaving it in the capable, legal hands of its father. Essentially, you’re selling an egg and renting out your womb. In return, you get over a million dollars, health care, food, and luxurious shelter.”

I hesitated. How could I not take this offer, but then there was school. “Will I be able to continue attending class?”

“Of course, if that’s what you want!”

“And I would want to give birth in the summer.”

It was Ms. DeForrest’s turn to frown as she did mental mathematics. “Well, we’ll try to arrange that, but it means getting started as soon as possible. We’ve already lost the window for June.” She rummaged around on her desk, pulling out a small business card of an OB/GYN. “For now, go get checked out. All our girls use Dr. Ashe. He’ll forward your files to me as soon as it’s done, and then we’ll start getting you prepped for next week.”

“What do I tell people who ask me about the pregnancy?”

She looked at me, surprised. “Whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t involve the Prema Society or the father of the baby. Tell them you’re a surrogate. It is the truth after all.”

The week passed quickly. It helped that I was practically in a daze with my decision. It wasn’t just a check-up, I also got impromptu modeling lessons, filled out miles of paperwork, and received pre-natal lessons. There were five of us total being auctioned off. We came from all different backgrounds, but I soon understood that I was the
piece de resistance
. A college co-ed virgin breeder.

I can’t lie, the idea of being claimed and seeded definitely turned me on. This job had revealed to me a side of myself that I was unaware even existed. I had watched some porn with Cassie, trying to prepare myself for the nights to come. The ones I most enjoyed were the scenes where the girl was taken from behind, doggy-style, or pinned down by her partner.

One night, after we bid each other goodnight, I had gone to my room and stripped down in the mirror, allowing my hands to wander my body, teasing my perky nipples into hardness, wandering over my taut belly, before dipping into the fur covered crevice hiding my womanhood.
Those breasts will soon be filled with milk
, I thought,
and that belly will swell
. I could already feel the slick, warm arousal dampening my thighs as I used a finger to tease the engorged little nub.

I lay down on my bed, sprawled out so I could see myself in the mirror on my closet and spread my legs. The cool air caressed my glistening pink folds, causing a contraction of longing in my body. My channel practically ached to be filled. I thought of the girls I had seen in the movies, legs spread for the thick meat that pounded their tight bodies, filling and stretching them. I wasn’t entirely a prude, I knew how biology worked, but it still seemed impossible that a dick that long and thick would fit inside my body. My fingers traveled up and down, spreading my juices across my petals, before I daringly slid a finger inside my virgin hole.

This is my cunt
, I thought boldly. I wanted to acclimate myself to words I wouldn’t normally use. Cunt, pussy, snatch, beaver. I played the words over and over in my mind, allowing my fingers to twist and tease my clit. As I watched the pale pink of my quim flushed redder, the sticky juice of my arousal allowing free movement of my fingers until I fell over the edge of orgasm. My thighs spasmed wider and I watched the entry to my vagina pulse, slipping a finger inside to feel my pussy walls grip it as it soon would a real dick.

The night before the auction, they had the five of us come to the club. We would be spending the night there and then spend the next day getting primped and preened, ready for the billionaires to lay down wads of cash for our baby boxes.

The next day was essentially a spa day. I received a manicure and pedicure, a facial and body scrub, a massage where I was slicked down with fragrant and exotic oils, and then they completely denuded everything below the neck of hair. I was told that until I received word otherwise, I would be doing this once a week from now until my contract was completed. There were worse things, I supposed.

I think the no-hair was the most shocking to me. I stared at myself in the mirror for a quarter hour afterward, twisting and turning, examining every inch of smooth flesh. My labia felt odd. I lightly ran a finger along the completely smooth, puffy lips. It was almost erotic and I could feel the blood flow rush to my loins. My body already seemed eager to fulfill its biological imperative. I had spent the last week on the edge of arousal, waiting to finally be filled.

We learned to walk, stand, and present ourselves on stage. The dresses assigned to us were essentially easy-to-remove togas that tied at the shoulders. Our stylist explained we were to wear nothing underneath them, and at some point the ties would be undone, leaving us nude on the stage. My nipples tingled and hardened at the thought of being naked in front of a group of rich men. I felt the heat rising in my face as I realized how turned on I was. I imagined being laid out across the stage with a group of older men pawing at my body, pinching my nipples, spreading my thighs, before one of them plunged their thick shaft into my virgin hole, stretching and piercing the remnants of my maidenhead.

That night, though, the second thoughts began. Tossing and turning in the cool sheets, I let the them flicker through my head like wildfire. I was a girl raised on the literature of the ages - princesses, true love, romance. I was, instead, renting out my womb. I was going to let a man who paid for me, a man with whom I had no previous relationship, take my virginity and knock me up. Could I do this? Even more importantly, could I give up my child? When I slept, I dreamed of a swollen belly, a crying infant, and the terror of being alone.

When I woke up to a knock on my door the next morning, my eyes felt gritty and burned with tiredness. There was no chance for a nap for me, though. I let in the servant bearing my breakfast tray and a stiff sheet of paper with my schedule. I nibbled at the toast and sipped my coffee as I perused the next 12 hours laid out for me. An hour for breakfast, final fittings, individual rehearsals, lunch, dress rehearsal, and then make-up until dinner leading up to the main event. Soon, I would be bought and paid for. As the fluttering of nerves began in my stomach, I started chewing on a nail as I looked out the window, the morning light slipping through the misty fall morning. I finished the remains of breakfast, and then hurried to my first event.

I spent the rest of the day being poked and prodded, pushed and tugged. That evening, I sat in a chair, awestruck as they made up every part of my body. As someone carefully applied lipstick to my mouth, someone else was carefully rouging my nipples. I was powdered and primped, every inch checked for flaws. I fought a giggle as they airbrushed me with make-up and wondered if I could get away with diva behavior since I was being made-up like a supermodel. Someone applied a creme to my nipples that tingled slightly. I could feel them pull into tight, taut nubs.

As they slipped the toga over my head, I stared at the creature in the mirror. Whoever she was seemed ephemeral and otherworldly with big doe eyes, a rosebud mouth, and perky breasts with the pink of the nipples slightly tinting the light fabric. The rubbery nubs peaked underneath the pale cloth and it was clear that my nipples were incredibly hard. I wanted to reach up and touch them, but I knew that would only smear the make-up on them. Soon, we were lined up for our initial presentation. I was last, the final prize for a roomful of men eager to spread their seed.

We walked out on stage in a single line, and I could hear the low murmur of male voices still as we entered. A hush filled the room as we turned to face them in one single movement. My heart pounded, my breath caught in my throat, and I struggle not to squint in the bright lights. I kept my hands folded neatly in front of me and plastered on a smile, bright and cheerful.

I could hear the emcee talking but I was too focused on not passing out under the heat of the lights. I was pretty sure that passing out might lower my price. I held on to the thought of $1.5 million dollars and ten percent of the auction price. If I could fetch a good price, I could pay for college and pretty much set myself up for a successful future. I could take my time, find a good job, buy a house. My head filled with the thoughts of being a grown-up, but the sound of applause pulled me back. The emcee had stopped talking and the other girls were looking at me impatiently, waiting for me to lead the line off-stage.

As we exited the stage, I embraced the cool darkness of the backstage, fighting the urge to fidget and mess with my hair or touch my face. The five of us sat in the make-up area in silence as the procession of women began. One by one, they left for their debut on stage. Having been through the rehearsals, I knew the process very well. The girl would enter the stage, face the audience, turn slowly as the emcee read the pertinent facts and opened bidding, smile and model as the bidding began. When bidding slowed, the emcee would come over and untie the straps on the toga, allowing the men a look at “the goods.” After it slowed again, he would bring the auction to a close and the girl would be escorted off-stage and back to her room. From there she could shower, redress, and wait for the end of the auction to finalize her deal with her purchaser.