Body For Sale Novels & Stories

"He's coming closer to me again." I put my phone away and force myself to look at it. Nobody fucks me as much as my older brother. It only takes me five years, but shit those years have taught me take its toll over time. He wears a black shirt and jeans barely held by the strap he wears. It is deteriorated. We have two clubs, one just opened this month and one in Chicago. This is just a facade. This one is for Manhattan high society and the other is where the real customers go.

I just have never thought that my body was going to be the item in the sale. “Are you interested or not?” I asked. He sighed, thinking about it. His eyes were all over my body, scrutinizing my entire body. “There are many men who would be more than willing to pay millions to fuvk me right now!” This wasn't a lie. Chloe Hathaway was a big name. Although most people only wanted to fuck me to have the title that they have fucked me. It was only a means to humiliate me, nothing more. “Okay, fine!” He exhaled.

he replied with determination in hope of getting a promotion or something. “Any?” Daniel’s eyes followed the motion of the oval-shaped paperweight as he spun it on the table. “Yes, sir,” Michael affirmed. “Very well. Now tell me Michael Can you sell your soul for millions?” Daniel pushed further. His eyes searching Michael’s. “Millions?” lips parted in shock. “How about I offer you ten million in exchange for something you have, Michael. Would you accept the trade?” Daniel asked calmly. His hands are still playing with the paperweight.

A message from the bank was that my account was credited with 3000 dollars. I scrolled up to look at the message history of this week with my bank. [Your account has been credited with 3000 dollars.] [Your account has been credited with 3000 dollars.] [Your account has been credited with 3000 dollars.] [Your account has been credited with 3000 dollars.] ….. This week alone I have sold my body more than five times. My body was sold to different billionaires whom I did not even know. In a week, my account was credited with several dollars I did not own. Nevertheless, I did not want to own one. Whatever I do is for my little brother and under pressure from my stepmother.

Mumma gasped, horrified. "Don't act shocked, Mom," I said, and I barely recognized my own voice—it was so cold, so bitter. "That's what it is, isn't it? Selling me for money. Selling me for your precious niece. Trading your daughter for cash. At least be honest about what you're doing." Her eyes filled with tears, but I felt nothing. No sympathy. No love. Nothing. "We're not selling you," she protested weakly. "He's a billionaire. He'll keep you happy. You'll want for nothing—"

No matter how much she tried to convince herself it wasn’t real, the truth weighed heavily on her chest: she was being delivered like a sacrifice. Her phone buzzed softly beside her—a message from Sophie. *Where are you? You sound scared. Please call me.* Amelia swallowed and locked her phone without replying. What could she say? *I’m on my way to meet the man who bought me.* The car finally slowed. When Amelia looked up, her breath caught. The building towered above them, sleek and imposing, all glass and steel. It looked cold, untouchable, and powerful, just like the man waiting inside.

Opportunities came with status, but not everyone was able to use them competently. “You can no longer sell the body if you don’t want to, otherwise everything is the same,” I answered, nodding at the drugs lying on the table. “Only conditions and wages will be better,” I added, not without pleasure watching the thought process on the beautiful faces of the girls.

I don't think a man will ever look at me with love after they see my body, hell even I feel disgusted with myself. "Everyone stand up and get ready," a man yelled at us. I'm being sold again, I don't know why people do this. We are human beings, not items but what do I know right? I'm afraid what if he wants me back? I can't imagine what I'm going to do if he finds me again.

He jogged next to me, “I can be whoever you want. As long as you can give me money.” “You sound like a prostitute.” “We all are,” He stated. “How so?” I asked without glancing at him but I can see his smirk on my peripheral vision. “We sell our body every day. Me, you - when one works for money using their mind,” He pointed his head, “Heart,” He pointed his left chest, “Or your whole part,” He signed his two hands to create a big circle, “You’re selling your body for money.” He continued. “Do you support that?”

He puts a finger underneath my chin and angles my head to look up at him. “Your parents could choose to sell themselves. To be hacked into little pieces and sold on the black market. Kidneys, livers, hearts. Even skin and hair can be sold. But they chose to sell you.” His voice is cold and my eyes fill with tears but I hold them back. “They wo-would never-” “Oh but they did.” He raises a hand and I flinch which has him pausing but then he continues as if not noting my fear. He gently strokes my face, starting with my forehead, down my temple, along my cheekbone, over my lips down to my chin again.