Claiming Candy
Claiming Candy
Madison Faye
Contents
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Author’s Note:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Also by Madison Faye
Mailing List
About the Author
Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2018 Madison Faye
Cover: Coverlüv
Photography: Sara Eirew
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Author’s Note:
This book contains themes that may be triggering to some readers. But, if you’re brave enough to get through it, I promise there’ll be a treat for you at the end ;).
1
Roarke
“Sold!”
The gavel bangs, and my blood pulses through me. My skin tingles with anticipation, muscles clenching as if already grabbing her.
Claiming her.
My sweet, sweet Candy.
Our Candy.
My cock hardens, and a low, tight growl rumbles through my chest. Beside me, Jensen does the same thing, and slowly, we both drag our eyes across the stage from the girl dressed as an auctioneer to her.
Candice. Candy for short.
Five-foot-five, one-hundred-twenty-four pounds of pure sin, tied up with little brunette pigtails and pert little tits that I’m dying to get my hands on. Long legs, a tight ass, and lips that were made to stretch around my thickness. Mine and Jensen’s.
Normally, Candice is a dean’s list student here at Anderson University. She’s smart. Driven, and poised. An unblemished, straight-As track record. Perfect attendance in class. Cute and alluring, without being trampy. Gorgeous without letting it all hang out like some girls.
She’s eighteen years old, a freshman, and a new pledge at Sigma Iota Tau Epsilon sorority.
And tonight, she’s ours.
All of her. Bought and paid for. Sold to us.
She’s dressed for the Halloween-themed party the same as the rest of the little college shits filling the basement of the Sigma house. That’s where we are. Because of course we are. The huge basement of the enormous old Victorian mansion that houses the sorority is where tonight’s auction is being held.
But, there's Candy, dressed to entice.
She’s little red riding hood tonight, the red cape and all. A skimpy, silk red top that I know Jensen’s going to enjoy ripping off. Red heels that I’ll have up in the air when I get between her smooth thighs. A little red skirt that’s no match for our lust.
Tonight, Candice Littleton is ours. Tonight, and every night.
“Sold!” Beside her, the auctioneer chick beams out at the crowd, looking right at Jensen and me. We’re dressed as wolves, masks and all. But fuck, none of these pricks realize just how real that is. None of them realize how very much the wolves we are in this crowd of sheep.
“Sold, to the two very well paying gentlemen in the back!”
The crowd cheers, turning to look at us. A couple of douchebag frat brothers turning and whooping it up, trying to offer us beers.
Fuck these people. And fuck these frat boys with their pretend machismo and their wannabe toughness. Jensen and I would break them in half if it came to it. And tonight, it may.
“Yeah bro!” A wild-eyed, drunk little shit whirls, grinning sideways as he spills beer on my boot. “You gonna tear that ass up tonight or wha—”
“Get fucked,” I growl, shoving him aside. He blinks, and for a second, I can see he wants to start something. But even through my wolf mask, and with him being drunk, I think he senses the danger.
He sees the crazy in my eyes.
And he pales.
“Whatever,” he mumbles.”
Yeah, whatever.
“C’mon up and claim your prize, you big bad wolves you!”
My jaw tightens at the girl’s bubbly, valley-girl voice as she beckons us up to take what’s ours.
Right, wolves. Jensen and I are both wearing these big furry masks — ears, snouts, teeth. The works. It’s a little much, considering most of the “costumes” at the costume party tonight are either guys wearing football jerseys or girls dressed in as little as humanly possible while still saying they’re Pocahontas or a nurse or some shit.
Young, nubile, college-girl flesh everywhere, and Jensen and I have been without for far, far too long. So long that I feel the aching need for feminine skin under my hands and my lips. So long that my cock aches for release, my balls swollen with cum.
But forget the rest of these students. These phonies. These jackals.
…All we have eyes for is her.
We’ve waited. We’ve plotted. And tonight, we’re taking it all.
“You ready?” I growl.
Jensen nods, and I can see his neck muscles tensing as he swallows. The both of us move through the crowd towards the stage.
Towards her.
She’s chewing on her lip, her fingers twisting. She looks nervous. Oh, she has no idea.
I can see her whirling and talking quickly to the auctioneer chick — Melissa, her name is. She’s the president of Sigma house, and I know she runs it like a dictatorship.
Oh, that’s going to change tonight too.
Candice is talking quickly, animated, panic in her eyes as she darts them towards the both of us and then back to Melissa. I can almost imagine what she’s saying.
“There's only supposed to be one of them.”
“Wait, I don’t want to do this.”
Oh, but it’s too late. And if I know this Melissa chick, she doesn’t give a fuck. I watch as she sneers at Candice, waving a hand dismissively and shoving her towards us. She’s probably saying some shit like “it’s for the good of the house,” or “do your duty,” or some stupid shit like that.
No matter. None of it matters. Not Melissa. Not the drunken fat boys whooping it up around us. Not the frightened rabbit look in little red riding hood’s eyes.
Because she just got fed to the wolves, and it’s time for us to collect.
It’s time for us to claim.
It’s Halloween. And we just found the one treat we’ve been craving.
2
Candice
The roar of the crowd in the big basement of the Sigma house is almost overwhelming. I can feel it in my bones, in my chest.
…Between my legs.
It’s almost erotic, this energy, this voracious, fierce, thunderous feeling of eyes on me—me and the other girls up for “auction” tonight. But deep down, I know this is wrong. I know I’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. But I have to think of the long term.
I have to think of the cause here.
The goal.
A sorority girl “auction” in these times seems in poor taste. Oh, and it is. But it’s also a tradition here at Anderson University. It also brings in a shitload of money.
The kids who go here? They’re rich beyond belief. Anderson, though it used to be renowned for its academics has for whatever reason turned into the party school for the sons and daughters of the top CEOs, hedge-fund managers, and tycoons in the country. Pampered, moneyed, entitled. These kids are from families that finance elections and public policy. People whose names appear on courthous
es, or parks.
The kids who go here drive Range Rovers and Porsches. They buy their degrees when they basically come here to party for four straight years. To say the least, the students at Anderson have money to blow. And a “date” with a Sigma girl? Well, that fetches big bucks.
It’s supposed to be for fun. It’s just a “date,” after all. It’s not like is a brothel or something. “You don’t have to do anything,” the older sorority sisters in the house say.
But, secretly, everyone knows.
Everyone knows that the reason people keep plunking down cash every year is that these innocuous little dates just “somehow” end up being more than that. “Guaranteed ass,” I heard one particularly disgusting frat boy say. That would be Thad Handler, the president of Lambda Psi Nu Omega. That's the brother fraternity to our sorority. He’s also Melissa’s boyfriend. She’s our sorority president.
To say the least, her and Thad are a match made in hell.
Thad is a misogynistic piece of shit, and disgusting, and handsy, and assured that his daddy’s money will keep him out of all trouble, forever. And Melissa is his equal. She’s cruel, and petty, and she uses the sorority to funnel girls to Thad’s disgusting parties.
…Looking back, especially tonight in the middle of all this? Well, it’s hard to remember why I joined at all. After all, I come from nothing. And I’m no party girl. Even if I joined the biggest party sorority on campus. But then, I remember. I remember, and I steel myself, reminding myself why I’m here.
Ellen.
That’s why I’m here. That’s why I joined in the first place. Because of her, and what happened to her.
“Holy fuck!”
Laurel, another newer pledge at Sigma who’s sitting next to me in the side wings of the stage dressed in a nurse’s costume, swears as her eyes go round. She’s staring at her glowing phone, her mouth open in an “O” shape.
“What?”
She turns, blinking. “Have you seen this shit?”
My brow furrows. “No? Seen what?”
Laurel’s not all bad. Well, she’s not great, but she’s not nearly as bad as most of the girls in Sigma are to me. Especially once they all found out I don’t have a credit card with my father’s name on it. Worse when they found out I don’t have a father at all.
“This,” she whispers, turning the phone to me.
My breath catches, loudly.
“Wait, that’s real?”
She nods. “Super real.”
My eyes dart to the headline again:
Manhunt underway for two escapees from mental ward of Tucker Prison.
My heart jumps into my throat.
“Wait,” my voice catches. “This says that prison is only twenty miles from Anderson University.”
Laurel pales. “I didn’t even know there was a prison around here! And a mental wing? What the fuck?!”
I swallow, turning, my eyes scanning the roaring crowd. Up on stage, a “slutty schoolgirl” — that would be Tanya — makes a whooping sound as the gavel bangs down. Ten grand.
Jesus these kids have money to burn. Some smirking, drunk looking frat boy charges the stage, and Tanya whoops again as he scoops her up and carries her away to the “honeymoon suite.”
I roll my eyes, my insides churning.
The honeymoon suite is the name given to the room upstairs where the dates go to settle up with what they owe and then get ready to go out. Of course, a lot of the time, it's basically a make-out room, or worse, once the guys and their dates get there. It’s on the very top floor of the big old Victorian house that houses the Sigma sorority. Actually, there’s one room above it, which is Melissa’s, of course. This amazing, huge room only reached by a private staircase, with its own balcony, private bathroom, and everything.
I shake my head. What the hell am I doing thinking about Melissa’s room when there are two, apparently crazy-psycho convicts on the run?
“I’m sure they’ll be caught soon,” I say it to try and convince myself. But I don’t think either Laurel or I actually believe the words.
She swears under her breath. “Fuck, I hope so. It’s Halloween. This is like a fucking horror movie plot. This article say these guys are real maniacs too. Like, dangerous and shit.”
“And next up, it’s Candy!”
I jerk, my head whipping around to look at the stage. Somehow, I’ve missed “slutty unicorn,” aka Sarah, being auctioned off, and it’s already my turn. Also, I hate that name, Candy. That name was only used before…when it was used as a term of endearment, not a silly name the sorority sisters call me to make fun of my trash upbringing.
“Get up here Candy!” Melissa jeers into the mic.
“Do your thang, girl!”
I smile weakly at Laurel, and get up. I pad across the stage, shivering under the onslaught of roaring frat boys and cheering sorority girls.
“A date with Candy! One of Sigma’s newest girls! Why don’t we start the bidding off at—”
“Five grand.”
My eyes dart across the room, but the man’s voice is in the back somewhere, shadowed.
“Five thousand!” Melissa crows back. “Do I hear—”
“Six!”
One of Thad’s buddies, Sean, grins at me. He’s been creeping on me ever since I pledged, and there is nothing nice in that smile of his.
Melissa “Six thousand—”
“Seven.”
Sean scowls, and when another voice calls out seven and a half, he whirls.
“Fuck off you guys,” he drunkenly belts out over the crowd. “Eight!”
“Ten.”
It the same dark, deep, booming voice from the shadows at the back of the room. And I shiver at the rumbling ominousness of it.
“Ten!” Melissa parrots. “Sir, could you come forward? I’m having hard time seeing you and we do need to see that hand go up for the bid!”
There’s a murmur amongst the toga-wearing Caesars and jersey-wearing football players and shirtless zombies as they part. And slowly, two shadows step forward into the light.
And my core tightens.
Not one, two. There’s two of them, both dressed as werewolves, with masks and everything. They’re both wearing these plaid button up shirts, unbuttoned and sleeveless, and my eyes dart down across rippling muscles and coiled biceps. I swallow, glancing down at my little red riding hood outfit, and I cringe.
Two wolves, and here I am dressed like this.
“I said ten,” one off them growls, his voice booming.
I try and figure out who they are. Actually, I can tell I’m not the only one. After all, most people aren’t wearing masks. But they are, and I have no idea who they are. I’m guessing they aren’t in Thad’s frat, or else they wouldn’t be betting against Sean.
Sean sputters. “Fuck off dicks,” he flips off the werewolves before he turns back to me, his eyes narrowing. “Eleven G’s, Melissa. Hit that gavel and lemme get my dick wet!”
His buddies roar into cheers, and I cringe, pulling back from the front of the stage.
Uh, no. That is not what I signed up for. I signed up for this whole stupid auction because I knew it brings in money to the sorority, and as a new pledge, I wanted to help. Especially since most of them still treat me like I’m in hazing.
But that? Getting bought so he can…uh, no. Not a fucking chance. Especially not with me being…
Well, let’s just say that if they knew that about me, the price would be higher. A lot higher. I shiver.
“Twelve.”
This time, it’s another of the two wolves. They’re not betting against each other though. They’re betting like they’re a team.
…Like they’re betting together.
That thought makes me shiver even more, even if it brings out this dark side in me I’m not sure what to do with.
“Get fucked” Sean hisses. “Thirteen!”
I back away from the front of the stage and Sean’s sneering look even more, but Melissa suddenly
yanks me back into the spotlight.
“Stay,” she hisses in my ear before turning and beaming into the crowd. “The bid is thirteen—”
“Fifteen.”
The first wolf raises his hand.
Holy shit.
There’s a murmur in the crowd. This is now officially the biggest bid of the night so far.
Sean seethes, his brow darkening. And suddenly, I’m even more worried about him winning. I’m worried about him finally winning and then taking out all that rage on his face on me.
“Seventeen,” he hisses. “Quit fucking around, shit heads. She’s mine.”
“Twenty.”
Sean whirls, fury on his face.
“Who the fuck are you?!” He whirls back to Melissa. “Get these fucks out of—”
“The bid is twenty.”
She smiles sweetly at Sean. And I watch as even Thad chuckles and shakes his head, patting his buddy and murmuring in his ear. Sean swears again.
“Twenty-one—”
“Twenty-five.”
One of the wolves answers Sean almost instantly, and the room almost goes quiet. Melissa’s jaw drops.
“Twenty-five thousand,” she says thickly, greed all over her face. “Sean?”
Sean turns and storms out, drink in hand.
“The bid is twenty-five. Anyone? Anyone else?”
The crowd murmurs, and I feel a chill tease through my body. I look down, and suddenly, I lock eyes with the two terrifying looking wolves. With the masks, I can’t see what sort of facial expression they’ve got. But I can see their eyes, and those eyes are looking at me with this ferocity and this hunger that has me trembling.
Twenty-five thousand.
“Okay, going once! Going twice! Going three times?”
Melissa beams as she slams the gavel down on the table.
“Sold!”
Twenty-five thousand.
I’m the biggest fetch of the night by a long shot. Because little red riding hood just got sold to the wolves for twenty-five grand.