‘The Master’

Compilation

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Books One to Six of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Author: Simone Leigh

This ‘Box Set’ Compilation Includes the First Six Books of the Series

‘Bought by the Billionaire’

The Master’s Maid

The Master’s Contract

The Master’s Courtesan

The Master’s Desires

The Master’s Fantasies

The Master’s Obsession

Copyright © 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, mechanical, electronic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without permission in writing from the author

Contents

The Master’s Maid

The Master’s Contract

The Master’s Courtesan

The Master’s Desires

The Master’s Fantasies

The Master’s Obsession

Also by Simone Leigh

Visit the Coffee Break Erotica Website

Contact Me

Free Book

The Master’s Birthday

About the Author

The Master’s Maid

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Part One of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Author: Simone Leigh

Part One

The Master’s Maid

It’s hot: stuffy and hot. I load my cloths and sprays into the trolley, then push it along the corridor to the next room. It’s an expensive hotel and normally the air is fine, but the air con isn't working properly and so my daily job of room cleaning is very uncomfortable today. I take the lift to my next room, the Penthouse, and unlock the door. It is a stunning room, bright and sunny, and when I cleaned it through the day before, smelling pleasantly of the occupant, a mixture of expensive after shave and musky male scent. The scent lingered, in stark contrast to my own air of clammy, sweat odour.

I consider the owner of the after shave for a moment as I open the window to let sunshine and fresh air in. I saw him leaving a few minutes ago, so I know I am clear to go into the room. He was dressed "smart casual", an expensive jacket with loose linen shirt in the heat, but tight black jeans cut to flatter his noticeably male physique. He strode down the corridor with a bunch of beautiful red roses, a briefcase and a gleam in his eyes. Despite the briefcase, he did not look like a man with work on his mind.

The room is clean and tidy and needs almost no work. In the office, I empty a paper bin by the desk and dust the desktop. I make up the bed in the room I can access. Some of the rooms are locked. I am supposed to do everything; all the work, every time. Vacuum the carpet, clean the bathroom, dust all the surfaces, wipe the windows but the room is so clean already I think I can skimp. I decide it is good enough and go to check the bathroom.

Again, it is immaculate.

Why am I doing this? I am hot, sticky and tired and working for minimum wage on a job I only took a few days ago to help me through my university studies. Already I hate the work, but I need the money.

The shower looks so inviting. Temptation wins. I kick off my shoes and quickly unbutton my tight cut blouse. I immediately feel better as cool air washes over my sweaty, glistening breasts. Unhooking my low cut black bra, I drop it on the blouse, then unclip my hair. It is far too warm to wear my hair loose, but now, freed, it cascades, red and silky, to my waist. Wriggling out of my short skirt takes only a moment, and my moist and sticky panties follow. I turn on the shower and step into the beautiful tiled enclosure.

The water feels wonderful on my skin and hair, coursing over my arms, breasts and belly, taking heat, sweat and fatigue with it. I stand, stretching luxuriously in the warm stream, needles of water massaging me.

There is a click and the sound of a key in the lock.

I freeze. Here I am, stark naked, in the shower of one of the hotel guests. Has he brought his date back to the room? Oh God! What is his girlfriend going to say when she finds a naked woman in her boyfriend's shower?

Frantically I turn off the water and reach for a towel, wrapping it around my naked torso to dry off as quickly as possible.

Oh God! Oh God. Oh God…. Please don’t let him come in here.

The bathroom door clicks open and the guy walks in. He has his back to me, but everything about him says "Pissed Off". Has something gone wrong with his date? Still with his back to me he almost rips off his jacket, hanging it up by the bath robes. I can see him fiddling in irritation with his tie as he slides it from around his collar and then hangs it with the jacket. He takes a couple of steps towards the mirror which has misted over from the warm shower.

He pauses, apparently noticing the steam and the misting for the first time, and starts wiping the mirror with one hand. As the view clears, in the reflection he sees me, standing behind him, be-towelled in his shower stall. He starts, then whips around, looking, at first, furious and perhaps a bit scared, but then relaxing as he registers my complete harmlessness.

I stammer "I'm sorry. I was so hot. I'll go now...."

"Oh, no need to be so fast" he says, grinning. "Finish your shower. Is there er, anything you would like to tell me?"

"Please don't tell anyone. I'll lose my job"

He smiles. "Is that right? Yes, I suppose it wouldn't look good would it. Maid caught using guest facilities". He steps forward, still smiling. He really is very attractive, deep blue eyes against tanned skin, and tall. "Are you going to make it worth my while not to tell anyone?"

One finger hooks itself around the top of my towel. He tilts his head to one side as he moves still closer, and his other hand takes a curl of my long, wet hair, twiddling it around a finger. “Beautiful hair you have there.” he says.

"I have to get back to work" I stammer. "I have other rooms to do"

"I'll tell the manager I had some extra cleaning for you to do - there's no hurry. I'm sure the hotel would expect you to - service - the guests first…."

The finger tugs, ever so gently at my towel. It parts, then slides down to the floor.

His eyes, meeting mine, smile as they follow the downwards path of the towel. I vaguely clutch at the damp cloth, but my heart isn't in it, and the towel continues its journey south.

"I think you owe me something" he says and the towel finger wanders downwards between my breasts. I feel I ought to be frightened, but instead, my pulse is beginning to race.

He reaches back and pulls the tie from the rack. Quickly he binds my wrists together, glancing briefly up into my eyes as he does so, for a sort of permission, and then, pulling up my arms over my head, attaches my bound wrists to the shower wall fitting. He stands back, cocking his head, admiring his handiwork. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, stretched up and tied for the perusal of a complete stranger. I am growing warm and wet.

His eyes lock to mine. "And now Milady, let's see how well washed you are.

Placing one hand on a breast, he starts kneading as his mouth lowers to the other, first to suckle, then nibble the nipple. His tongue circles, flicking the nipple to hardness. When he seems to feel he has a satisfactory result, his mouth, and that tantalising tongue, move to the other nipple, while a hand slides over my stomach, descending. I feel him outlining the curve of my waist, over my hip and belly. His fingers entwine themselves in my curls before slipping in between my thighs.

I can hardly contain myself. Wriggling, I hear his chuckle of approval as he feels how wet I am. His tongue circles the nipple, one finger mirroring the movement over my clit. Torn between the desire to stay still and just let it happen, or to grind my hips around his hand, I find myself simply trembling helplessly and my thighs growing wetter and wetter, and warmer and warmer, pussy juice beginning to flow.

He pauses, standing upright. He looks into my face again, running his hands up and over and down my trembling torso, breasts and shoulders, gauging my reactions. His pupils wide and dark, I know that he likes what he finds. Very slowly and gently he runs his hands back around my shoulders and into my hair, pulling my face to his. He kisses me, very softly on this lips then starts nibbling at an ear.

"Enjoying this aren't we…" he whispers. "Want to take things further?"

Do I want to? It’s driving me wild. Tied up as I am, this stranger could do anything to me, but his slow, careful, caressing and touching is arousing me far more than any ‘straight shag’ could have. I am quivering with arousal. But I can't bring myself to reply. After all, he is still a stranger who has tied me up.

"Shy eh?" he whispers again. "Let's see if we can fix that…"

His head nestling into the curve of my neck and shoulder, he reaches behind me with one hand, firmly pulling my buttocks to him. I feel-hear a clunk and then another. I am puzzled.

"I thought I should play the gentleman" he says. "Time to take my shoes off." As it dawns on me, in my stupefied arousal, that he is still more or less fully clothed, his feet slide between mine, easing my legs apart. I stagger slightly, but his other arm takes my weight as I regain my balance.

"Now" he says. "Do I need to tie those ankles apart? Or do I get some co-operation?"

I still can’t bring myself to speak. My trembling continues and I am beginning to pant, my breath coming in short bursts and my colour rising. He knows exactly what he is doing to me.

"Still shy? We'd better sort it out then." He releases me, slowly and stands up straight. "Don't move, Miss Silent." he says, turns and walks out of the room.

For a minute or so I hear nothing, then there is there is music; some kind of soft classical. It grows louder, and then he comes back into the bathroom, carrying the roses I saw earlier, and something else I can’t make out. He has stripped off his shirt. His smoothly muscled torso bespeaks the kind of man who either has a very physical job or who works out, knowing that women don't go looking for over-muscled morons. In his bare feet and wearing just the black jeans, now bulging at the front, dark haired, lambent eyed, and clearly with a purpose in mind, he is utterly, astonishingly, suggestive and inviting. I could no more said "No" than fly. But I cannot quite bring myself to say "Yes" or, more appropriately "Please".

"I hope you like the music, Miss Silent." he says. "I think it's time we got some noise out of you. The music should cover it up in case anyone comes by". He brings the roses close to my face. "I did have other plans for this evening, but she stood me up. Would you like these? They are beautiful aren't they? Do you like the scent?"

The scent is ravishing. What kind of woman stood this man up? I can’t imagine. Delicately, slowly, he holds the roses for me to smell and then, with only the very tips of the petals, caresses my face with the flowers. The petals have small drops of water on them, and as he brushes my face and then moves down my neck, over my breasts and stomach, the small cold droplets chill me and titillate at the same time. A moan escapes me and I feel my pussy juices running below.

He smiles and raises his eyebrows. "Ahh…. So you can make noises. Let's see what else you can do"

Abruptly he turns away and, quite carefully, places the roses in the basin. He produces the "something" that I was not able to identify before; it is a spreader bar with leather ankles cuffs - what kind of evening had he had planned before?

He looks at me and grins wickedly. "This might be even better than what I had planned" he says. He displays the bar to me. The cuffs look padded but strong. "She knew what to expect, but, well, I think you might be new to this…. mmm???...... Still silent? Let's see what we can teach you."

I am panting uncontrollably now. He kneels down and straps in first one ankle, and then the other. My feet are held firmly apart. My hands are tied securely above me and my legs spread wide.

He stands up and stands back, looking me up and down, just standing there, arms folded, head titled. Just looking.

"You are really beautiful you know. With a figure like that, and your hair…. What are you doing in a job like this?"

He comes close to me, almost, but not quite, touching. I can smell him, warm and spicy, and I can feel his breath on me. I am longing for him inside me.

Carefully, and touching no other part of me, he reaches for and rubs my left nipple. The steam of my shower has cleared now and so I am cooling off. Under the influence of chill and arousal, my nipples were hard, crinkling with stimulation. He tweaks the nipple, smiles and nods, ‘Hmmming’ to himself.

He releases the nipple. Still touching no other part of me, he reaches down between my spread and dripping thighs. "You do like this, don't you?" Carefully - oh so carefully - he touches my clit and delicately rubs.

This time there is no escaping it. I moan uncontrollably and gush. My knees give way, but this time he does not support me and my weight drops onto my tied wrists. I stagger more or less upright, hobbled by my cuffed ankles. As soon as I am upright again, he repeats it, this time rubbing my clit a little harder.

I gasp and cry out as my knees buckle again. "Good thing I put on that music" he says, as I pull myself upright again. "Don't want anyone outside hearing you yelp like that. But it's nice to know that you can make a noise" He pulls quickly at my clit this time and then massages it for a moment. This time he holds me by the waist as my legs give way. "Don't want you hurting yourself in your enthusiasm" he whispers into my ear. "Tell me. What would you like to happen next?"

I am almost beyond reason. "I want…. I want…." I can't get the words out. I can't bring myself to speak them. His fingers make lazy circles around my clit and I gush again. I am frantic for something inside my pussy, but nothing is forthcoming.

"What do you want? You have to tell me" He now holds me very tight, supporting my weight - my God but he’s strong. My legs are like string, but he takes my weight without effort.

"You have to tell me" he repeats. His fingers continue flicking and kneading my clit. I am about to come, and I feel myself reaching the plateau.

And he stops.

Still holding me by the waist, he takes his hand away. "You have to tell me what you want, before it goes any further. I won't let you come until you tell me what you want me to do"

His hand slips between my thighs again and quickly, ever so briefly, his fingers stroke across my pussy. The lips, swollen, engorged and sodden, pulse, as one finger strokes between them and then withdraws.

I am almost frantic with lust. "Let me cum. Let me cum." I say.

"What do you want me to do?" His breath by my face is like a promise.

"I…. I…. I want…."

"You have to say it…." He kneads my clit quickly between two fingers, sending electric desire pulsing up through me. "You have to say it" he repeats. "You don't get it without saying it"

I surrender. "I want you inside me". If I weren’t tied and supported, I would collapse entirely. "I want you inside me."

He doesn't move. "That's better." he whispers to my ear. "You have to do better than that, if you want to cum, but I can give you a little more now…" He slides a finger inside me, his thumb over my clit and begins to work me. My climax, which had subsided a little, begins to build again immediately. He feels it. "Oh no." he chuckles. "Oh no. It doesn't work like that." His fingers withdraw. "What do you say?"

My mind blanks for a moment. Is he serious? What do I say? But my tormented clit and my aching pussy, brook no argument. "Please." I mumble.

"That's better." His finger brush over my pussy lips "But "Please what?""

I gasp and moan, writhing in my restraints and his grasp. "Please make me cum. Please fuck me. Please. Please fuck me"

"Now we've got there."

He kisses me full on the mouth, makes sure I am standing up and then pushes two fingers up inside me hard. I feel them almost scrape against me inside, against my G-spot. I cry out but he has already withdrawn and is down on his knees, his face to my thighs. From my rather awkward position, I look down to see him looking back up at me, at my face. As he looks, his hands are working, parting curls to reach my pussy lips. He leans forward, and for one delicious moment, I feel his tongue curl around my clit.

This time, there is nothing half-hearted or restrained about my reaction. I scream, just in time to feel him pull my thighs fully apart, and his tongue lick up from the back of my cunt, through and over my pussy lips.

And he stops. I hang, my weight on my wrists, making incoherent gasps and wishing there was something I could say.

He pulls away and stands smiling at me. Standing there in my shackles and my own sweat and juices. "This won't do you know." he says. And he turns and walks out again.

I can't believe it. I finally put together a sentence. "You can't do this to me! You can't leave me like this"

His voice drifts through from the lounge. "Well you needn't think I'm going to tongue-fuck you in that condition"

What? What?

The sound level of the music goes up. And up again. And I wait.

He comes back in, again carrying something, which he puts on a shelf. I strain to see what it is - a wash bag? - and he goes immediately out again.

A moment later he is back, and he puts something else in his pocket.

"I turned the music up again." he says. "I think that when I get you properly Mastered, you're going to be quite the little screamer. We'll keep it private shall we…"

That grin again. He stands for a moment, seeming to be savouring the situation. Then stepping forward again, "Just to keep you on the boil." he says, holding me around the waist again, and pushing one, two, then four fingers up inside me. Again I writhe and pulse, on the brink of orgasm, as he finger-fucks me once, twice, thrice, and then stops.

Padding over in his bare feet to the shelf he pops something in his pocket and then opens the "washbag" - it is a washbag - and takes out a razor and a can of foam. "I like the taste of pussy," he says, "but not a mouthful of seaweed." He kneels in front of me again and aims the can over my crotch.

I recoil, trying to back into the shower stall. "No!" I say. "No. you can't do that."

"Really ‘No’?" he asks, pausing. "If you say No to this, then it's No to everything." He parts my pussy lips and takes a lingering lick over my clit, flicking me with the tip of his tongue. My resolution crumbles.

"Well…."

"Perhaps I can help with your decision." He reached into his pocket and pulls out the ‘something’; and I hear a low buzz, then a high buzz.

"Just something to keep you occupied." he says and pushes the egg up inside me. He does it slowly, sliding it along my engorged lips and up past my aching pussy muscles so that I feel every inch of movement.

Then, with the egg buzzing inside me, he sprays the foam and sets to, shaving away my curls. He takes his time, and he is careful, but he is thorough. A few minutes later my crotch is as naked as the rest of me. "I don't like the taste of soap," he says "and you are getting a bit sweaty". He reaches for the shower head, turning it on full, but cool. He aims the fine needles of water over my breasts, concentrating on the nipples. I squirm and squeal. The water is just cool enough to make me react without chilling me.

"S'cuse me" he says, reaches up inside me with a couple of fingers, and pops out the egg, still buzzing. He negligently tosses it onto a towel and then, turning the shower head upside down, sprays squarely up into me, over my pussy and my clit with the water. Water, lather and pussy juice ran down my legs as I struggle and squeal against the intensity of it all.

The sheer scale of the stimulation is beyond bearing. I scream, trying to escape the intense pleasure/pain/over-stimulation of the needle jets. I am about to cum uncontrollably.

And he stops again.

By now, I am almost delirious with the desire to cum, and I sag in my bonds, head bowed.

"You said that you still have some work to do?" he says. “More rooms to clean?”

"What?" I raise my head to look at him. Is he really suggesting……?

"You do have work to do. We don't want you getting into trouble with your Boss do we. I’ve met Mr Chambers and he’s not really a very nice man." He reaches above me and starts undoing the tie. "I think you should go and do your work, and then I can finish you off later." The tie comes loose and he starts dressing me, slipping my arms through my bra straps, clipping me up at the back.

I stare unbelievingly. "You can't be serious. After all that, you want to just break off and I'm supposed to…."

He interrupts. "Get dressed, and come back later. That way you won't lose your job, and I'll know that you really do want me to fuck you……". He smiles as he buttons up my blouse. "Now here's your skirt. Pop that on…. No, you don't need those." He takes my panties away from me, and tosses them into a corner. "Lift your feet one at a time."

I step into my skirt unresisting as he pulls it up and zips me up. "And before you go," - he retrieves the egg and slips it, buzzing quietly, up inside me. "I'll expect to find that still there when you come back. You just practice gripping it so it doesn't slip out - that would just be embarrassing wouldn't it". He roughly towels my hair dry, and gives me a brush.

He pushes me out and towards the door. As he propels me into the corridor, brush in hand and buzzer within, he whispers "What's your name?"

"Elizabeth."

"I'll see you later, Elizabeth" he says.

The Story Continues in “The Master’s Contract”

The Master’s Contract

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Part Two of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Author: Simone Leigh

Part Two

The Master’s Contract

I stand in the corridor, speechless, but gasping.

A complete stranger has brought me to the verge of the most explosive orgasm ever, and then stopped, shoving me out into this corridor to carry on cleaning hotel rooms. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I stare at the closed door, and want to shout the question at its blank surface, but if I were heard shouting in the hotel, I might lose my job. Suddenly I want to cry, at the sheer let-down of what has just happened.

Reaching into a pocket, I pull out a hair tie, pinning my long red locks, still damp from the shower, back onto my head. I start to step towards my trolley, full of clothes and brushes and furniture polish, but as I move, am brought to a sudden stop by the vibration of the egg, still whirring away inside me. I yelp, and then clap a hand over my mouth in case anyone hears me.

The door opens again. He stands there, wearing an arrogant smile. “Still here Elizabeth? I said to come back later. What time do you come off shift?”

“Er, seven pm.”

He nods. “Fine. I’ll see you at five past seven. Don’t be late. I’ll be waiting for you.” And he closes the door again. I can’t believe the gall of the man. Does he think I am going to coming running? Just because he asks, and appears to expect it?

Then I admit the truth to myself. Yes, of course I am going to come back. The man, whoever he is, is devastatingly handsome and has just played a game that brinked me on the edge of a crashing climax.

Correction: is still playing a game.

I check my watch. Five thirty: an hour and a half. Might as well get on with my work.

Walking awkwardly, because of the egg buzzing away inside me, I push the trolley along to the lift. There are no other rooms on this floor. The Penthouse Suite stands alone. I wonder who he is, to be able to afford to stay here.

For the next hour and a half, I work in a bit of a dream. Fortunately, I have no real problems with any of the work, because were I to have to, for example, bend over, the whole world would see that I’m wearing no panties. He has those, discarded by his shower. The egg works sporadically, sometimes lying still inside me and then suddenly bringing me upright with a gasp as it suddenly vibrates to life inside me. My pussy juices are running, working their way down my thighs.

Seven o’clock comes and I put my trolley back in the utility cupboard. I am wondering what excuse I can use for going back up to the Penthouse, but as I pass reception, Ricardo calls me from the desk. “Hey Beth. Penthouse wants a bottle of champagne. Can you take it up to him please.”

Ricardo shouldn’t have asked me to do it. There are other staff for room service, but I am not about to complain. The timing is perfect. I collect the champagne on ice, trying not to bend over as I push the bar cart along, and take the lift back to the top floor.

Suddenly nervous, I hesitate before tapping on the door, but almost before my knuckles touch the wood, the door opens and he is there again. I glance up. Of course. There is a camera by the lift. He knows exactly who is outside his door.

He smiles a welcome. “Ah Elizabeth. Lovely to see you again. Do come in.” He takes the champagne cart from me and I follow him inside. “I hope you don’t mind, or think me forward.” he says, “But I’ve made a few preparations for you.”

Preparations?!?

I halt, then jerk as the egg buzzes me again. An hour and a half of it working inside me, has left me almost limp with desire, and desperate for a real fuck.

He looks pleased at my reaction. “Ah, you do still have it inside you. Nice to know that you can follows instructions.” He holds up a small box and jabs a button on it as I watch. The egg inside me jolts to life again, sending electric arousal up my spine. I yelp. “Good girl.” he said. “That’s what I like to see. Obedience.”

Suddenly, he steps up close, circles an arm around my waist and brings his mouth to my ear. “Don’t need the help now though, do we? I just wanted to keep you on the simmer until you came back.”

His free hand strokes my cheek, slides down over a breast, cupping and squeezing briefly, continues its way down to the hem of my too-short skirt and under. I am unbelievably aroused. Beginning to pant again, I can only ask myself how a complete stranger can be doing this to me, as his fingers journey up and in, stroke past my clit and up into my swollen pussy. He flicks out the egg and tosses it onto a side table.

“Go have a shower again Elizabeth.” he says. “You’re hot and uncomfortable from working. I want you relaxed.”

Even in my inflamed condition, I have to admit that this is a good idea. I nod, and walk to the shower-room.

Stepping into the room, still steamy from my earlier visit, I start to unbutton my blouse, then can’t be bothered and simply lift it up over my head. For a moment, my vision is blocked as the blouse goes over my face, then as I can see again, I realise that he is in the room with me. I startle and he grins. “Don’t mind if I watch do you?”

I shake my head dumbly.

He nods in satisfaction. “I might decide to help. But let’s see how it goes.” His grin drops to a half smile and he tilts his head in that expression of his that I am coming to recognise. “Take your bra off Elizabeth. Slowly. And turn to face me. I want to see you properly.”

Turning to face him fully, I unclip my bra, black and lacy, then slide it slowly down my stomach, before letting it drop to the floor. Then I start to unzip my skirt.

“No.” he says. “Not yet. Fondle your breasts, Elizabeth. Caress them. Play with your nipples.”

He wants me to perform for him? I hesitate.

“I’m waiting.”

I cup my own breasts, then, stroking and squeezing them, watch his gaze drop to watch. Suddenly, I realise that I very much want to give him a show. I start tweaking and pinching at my nipples, making them crinkle and harden. I feel myself warming from within and flushing. He smiles again, knowing exactly what is happening. He really does have the most beautiful smile, starting at his lips and curving up through his deep blue eyes.

He speaks. “Don’t move. Stay right there.” and he walks out, returning only a moment later with the champagne bottle. “We’ll drink this in a while, but I have better uses for it right now.”

The bottle is chilled from the ice, running with condensation. He holds the cold glass up to my nipples, flicking over their already crinkled skin with the icy surface. I gasp at the sheer pleasure/pain of the sensation, not cold, just stimulating. “I’m going to enjoy training you, Elizabeth.” he says.

“Sorry? Training me?”

“You’ll see.”  he says. “I’m going to fuck you raw in a while. But first you have to please me. You have to be a Good Girl.”

I groan. Desperate to fuck, I want nothing more than to feel him inside me. “Oh God…”

“Yes, Elizabeth? What is it?”

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please. I …. I need to cum.”

“So what would you like me to do?”

“Please….”

“I told you before. You have to ask. You won’t get it without asking.”

I am almost incoherent with lust. “Oh God. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

“Good Girl. That’s better.”

Abruptly he pulls me close, kisses me hard on the mouth, lingering as he runs fingers through my hair, then twists me around, bending me face down over the hand basin. From somewhere he produces a silk cord, obviously having it already prepared. He loops it over my left wrist, around a tap, then around my right wrist and the other tap, I am tied down, my back arched, and my butt presented to him.

Face down, I feel him come close behind me and pull me, by my waist backwards, until my arms are outstretched and my hips pulled upright. His pelvis is pressed against me and I can feel his erection. Pushing my skirt up around my waist so that my naked derriere is exposed, with one foot, he spreads my legs, stretching my aching pussy open.

He lays himself over me. I did realise before how tall he is. I am not short, about five foot nine, but to bend over me like that, he must be well over six foot. I hear his voice, murmuring, close to my ear. “Now then Elizabeth. You’ve been good and asked nicely, so you deserve something. Which do you want? My cock inside you? Or do I tongue fuck you?”

Shaking and trembling, I can barely speak, gasping out “Don’t care. Just let me cum.”

“As my Lady wishes.” He backs away from me, and the next thing I feel is his tongue, not gentle this time, but licking hard and slow from the front, over my clit and beyond, before making circles inside and around my pussy. I cannot help myself, and I come within seconds, breaking into helpless screams as pulses of pleasure pump through me. I try to buck, but he grips me firmly around the pelvis and continues his merciless probing.

When I can bear no more, when I think I am going to explode, I shriek “Enough. Enough!” He stops instantly and as I hang slack and limp over the basin, panting, he strokes one hip, and I feel him kiss my bud.

He stands up, untying me. For a moment I don’t move; I don’t feel capable of moving, thinking my knees will buckle if I try. As my breathing subsides, he lifts me upright, taking my weight for a moment, holding me to his chest.  “Are you alright Elizabeth?”

Speechlessly, I nod, then, as I become able to support myself, he says. “Have your shower. I’ll see you in the lounge. Don’t bother with the skirt.”

The shower is blissful, and I alternate with hot and cold jets, playing the water over my breasts and stomach, my pulse slowing, my breathing returning to normal. The shampoo and the soap are wonderful; expensively perfumed, and I inhale deeply through the steam.

Stepping out, the towels are huge and fluffy. Only the best in this suite.

Although I have been told to leave my skirt, I do not quite like to step naked into the room. I shake my head. Shy? I have just allowed a man I only met for the first time two hours ago, to tongue-fuck me to orgasm, and now I’m bashful about it?

I dry my hair so that it falls long and loose around my tiny waist, then step into the lounge wearing a white bathrobe.

He looks up from where he is pouring champagne into two glasses.

“Ah. There you are. I thought I might have to come looking for you again.”

I suddenly feel awkward again. “My hair takes a long time to dry.”

Now he looks admiring, and he comes up close, lifting my long tresses, holding them to his face and breathing deeply. “Yes, and beautiful hair it is, Elizabeth. By the way, time for a formal introduction. I’m Richard.”

He holds out his hand and, a little confused, I take it. “Nice to meet you Richard.”

“Sit down.” He gestures to one of the expansive settees, positioned to take in the spectacular view over the City. He passes me a glass. “Sit down.” he repeats. “Let’s talk a little, before we move on to other things.”

It is good to know that talking is an option, but…. “Other things?” I ask uncertainly.

He smiles that tilt-headed smile of his again. “You didn’t imagine we’d finished, did you? No, not by a long way. The evening is young.”

I hide my confusion in the glass, sipping at the drink.

Richard refills it and sits beside me. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you drunk. We’ve already established that I don’t need to, haven’t we?” He looks me full in the eye, and then continues.  “Tell me Elizabeth. Why are you cleaning hotel rooms?”

Why is he asking me? I shrug. “I need the money. I’ve got to get through college and my parents can’t help much.”

He nods. “I thought it might be something like that. Do you enjoy the work?”

I think it is a silly question. “No, of course not. It’s lousy work, but it’s work.”

“What are you studying at college?”

“Business studies.”

“Not just a pretty face then, or a beautiful body.”  He nods, raising his eyebrows, seeming to be thinking about something.

Then he stands, holding out a hand to me. “Come along, Elizabeth. Time to move on.” When I hesitate, he wriggles his fingers at me, eye-pointing a door. The bedroom?

I take his hand, and he raises me from my seat. He is amazingly sexy. His smooth, tanned skin highlighting his dark, but slightly greying hair and deep, deep blue eyes. As I rise, he fixes me with those eyes.

I could lose myself in those eyes.

He takes my other hand also, and facing me, leans forward, kissing me on the mouth, soft and full. I lean into the kiss, hungry for more, hungry for whatever he is offering.

He leads me to the door and opening it, stands to one side, letting me in first.

It is a bedroom, but I wonder how much sleep it sees. A huge room with an entire wall of glass, it overlooks the city far below. A large bed, made up with white silk sheets and pillows, scattered with rose petals. For a moment I think the petals are also silk, but then a heady perfume tells me they are real. The corners of the bed are posted in black wrought iron and from each post dangles a chain ending in a cuff.

The lighting is low, flickering in the glow of candles, and with a real fire in a hearth. My eyes slide past wardrobes and drawers, a thick fur rug lying before the fire. I can only look at that bed. This is a room of fantasy, of dreams.

“Do you trust me Elizabeth?”

Do I trust him? I have only just met him. But then, I have already allowed him tie me up, twice. He could have done anything to me, helpless as I was. “Yes, I trust you.”

I hear the smile in his reply. “Good. Because I want to be your Master, and for that, you must trust me.”

As I try to digest what this means, he pushes me forward to the bed. I think he wants me to get onto the bed, but he stops me, and turning to me to face him, starts to untie the belt of the robe I am wearing.

“I’m not……” He stops me speaking, putting a finger to my lips.

“Shhh...” he says, very quietly, looking me in the eye. “I am your Master now, and I have not given you permission to speak. Do you understand?”

I nod my head.

“Good. For now, the only things you may say, are either to ask for more, or to ask me to stop. But if you do ask me to stop, everything stops and you will be going home. I will tell you what to do, and you will obey, or you will go home. Do you understand?”

I nod again and he smiles in satisfaction. “Good. Now, take off the robe Elizabeth. I want to look at you.”

I shrug the robe from my shoulders, standing naked for him. He looks very carefully over me, his gaze examining me, my breasts, my waist, my sex. He starts to circle me. Involuntarily, I start to turn. to follow him.

“Did I tell you to move?”

I shake my head and stand still again. Now I feel his hands on my shoulders. From behind, his fingers slide over my arms, my stomach, my buttocks and thighs. Despite my amazing orgasm only a little while ago, I begin to feel warm inside again.

“Get on the bed Elizabeth. Lie on your back.”

Obediently, I climb onto the silken sheets, rose petals scattering under me. “You’re so beautiful, Elizabeth. I love beautiful things. Do you like the bed? Is it not beautiful too?”

I nodded silently.

“Open your legs, Elizabeth. And raise your knees. Show me yourself.”

I hesitate.

“Do you want to go home?”

I shake my head.

“Then do as you are told. I want to see all of you. Show me your pussy.”

A stab of desire runs through me, and as I open my pink folds to him, I feel myself growing wet again. He sits on the edge of the bed, examining me, one finger running over my stomach as he looks. “Touch yourself Charlotte. You’re not wet enough yet. I want to see that you are ready for me.”

I slide my hands down to my clit, rubbing and tweaking, lust rising in me rapidly. He watches for a minute or two, then rises and goes to a cupboard, his eyes never leaving where I am playing with my sex. Pulling something from the cupboard, he tosses it to me, then pulls a pillow from the bed and, with little effort, lifts my hips from the bed, slipping the pillow under me.

“Now use that.” he commands. The gentleness is leaving his voice now, but I am becoming too excited to care. Taking the vibe he has given me, I start working myself with it. Distracted for a moment, by the sensations running through me, I close my eyes, my pussy getting hotter and wetter, my pussy juice running down my thighs onto the beautiful sheets. The feeling of giving my all to this beautiful stranger, is riding me ever higher. Opening my eyes again, Richard is taking off his shirt, watching me all the time. As he starts undoing his belt, he says “Not just your clit. Inside you. I want to see you fuck yourself.”

The vibe glides into me easily, my slit slippery and hot, the little attached finger vibe working my clit too. I can feel orgasm start to rise again. Richard sees it too and snatches the vibe away from me.

“Enough.” he says. “No-one gave you permission to cum.”

I lay, dumbly looking at him, wondering what is coming next. His jeans are bulging and as he removes them, I see his massive erection, firm and stiff against his navel. Can I take that much?

He sees where I am looking and guesses my thoughts. “Yes, you’re getting it. All of it, if you are good and do as you are told.”

“Off the bed, Elizabeth. Stand in front of me.’

Compliantly, I obey, and not sure where to look, cast my eyes down. He leans to one side and, opening a drawer, takes out a single red silk scarf, then others. Using one of them, he blindfolds me, binding it tight around my eyes, then leads me a few steps by the hand. “Bend forward.” Again, I obey and feel first my left wrist, and then my right, being bound to something. The bedposts?

As earlier, he lifts me from the waist, positioning me with hips up, and pussy exposed. My legs are spread and my ankles bound also. I am utterly helpless and completely exposed, at the mercy of this man. My pussy lips are swollen and aching, juices are running down my thighs. I have never felt so utterly aroused, so utterly ready for whatever would happen next.

Quivering and trembling I hear him speak again. “Just to remind you, Elizabeth, you can tell me to stop at any time, but if you do, everything stops, and you go home. Say ‘Yes’ if you understand.”

“Yes.”

I am almost palpitating now, to have my Master inside me. His penis pushes against my pussy lips and I move my hips to accommodate the huge erection, tilting myself for easy access. The vibe was a poor substitute for what I really want. I pulse with arousal, frantic now to have that cock, to swallow it within, to take it as far as it will go, ball deep into me. Once, twice, it pushes against me, easing me open, slippery and wet. My pussy muscles jump in reflex, tightening around my Master, as he hesitates on the brink, not yet penetrating, not yet filling me as I want.

“What do you want Elizabeth? You may speak.”

I don’t hesitate. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

The penis eases against my pussy and my muscles twitch. I lean back as far as I can, to take it, but again, he pulls away.

“That’s not good enough Elizabeth.”

“Oh God, please fuck me.”

“Not good enough Elizabeth. I have to really know what you want. You won’t get it if you don’t tell me.”

I scream. “Please. Please fuck me with your cock! Bury yourself in me. I want to be fucked.”

“That’s better.” He thrusts hard inside me. My pussy walls take him easily, so wet and swollen are they, but he is huge and I feel him bang against my inner wall, then again harder. It hurts, but I am beyond pain or pleasure, and know only that I want more of this. I feel my Master grasping my buttocks, holding me still as he fucks me. Over and over again, his shaft spears me. I cry out in rhythm with his thrusting, again and again as he plunges deep inside me. I cannot move. I cannot see. Blind and spreadeagled, all I can do is scream in response to the pain/pleasure of my Master fucking me.

Climax wells up from within, mounting and building, threatening to take me completely. Then in a shattering crescendo, my heart pounding and pulse racing, orgasm overwhelms me, and my cries turn to screams at my body’s release. Still he pounds inside me, plunging and thrusting, but I feel him now, leaning over me, arms wrapped around me, kneading my breasts, his breath ragged next to my face. He spasms as he bucks and presses into me, pumping his load. His hips jerk convulsively once or twice more, and then he relaxes and sighs.

“Good girl Elizabeth.” he says quietly. “Yes, that was good.”

Withdrawing, he unties me, steadying me as I stand a little uncertainly, then removes the blindfold. My breathing is still quick, and he is flushed and panting, hair sweaty and disordered. He smiles as he catches my eye, tossing me the bathrobe. “Shall we finish that champagne now?” he suggests. I nod, uncertain as to whether I am permitted to speak, and he takes me by the hand, leading me back into the lounge.

On the fur rug, we sit in front of the fire, me cross-legged in the bathrobe, he naked in the firelight, his deep blue eyes lambent in the flames.

“I want you to come here again tomorrow Elizabeth.”

Again? I am not sure I can cope with another night like this so soon. But my body betrays me. At the suggestion that I could have such magnificent, stupendous sex again, that my Master might again take me to the brink and beyond, my heat starts to rise again inside. Bewildered by the scale of my own lust, I gulp at the champagne. Bubbles shoot up my nose, making me sneeze.

He laughs. “Is that a ‘Yes’?”

I waver. “I’d like to, but if the manager knows that I’ve, well, you know, with one of the guests, I don’t know what he’d do.”

He stays silent, pursing his lips slightly.

I continue. “I’m sorry, but I really need this job. And, no offence, you’re great, but, you’re a guest. You’ll be moving on in a few days, and I’d be left high and dry.”

He steeples his fingers, holding them up to his lips. “Elizabeth. I understand you, but you don’t understand me. I will not be moving on. I live here. And you will not lose your job, because I will make sure you don’t.”

I am confused. He lives here?

“Elizabeth. I live here in this apartment. I own it. I own the hotel in fact, along with quite a lot else. I have other houses, out in the country, but I live here most of the time, because my business is here, over there in fact, in that office building there.” He points out of the window across the city to the Towerpoint offices. “And for the avoidance of doubt, I own those too.”

I goggled. I’ve just been shagging with Richard Haswell. “Oh!” I say.

He laughs. “That impressive, eh? Listen Elizabeth. Here’s the deal, if you want it. You don’t have to take it. If you say ‘No’, then I’ll say nothing to anyone, and you can go back to cleaning rooms for a living.”

Running fingers through his hair, he is clearly choosing his words carefully. “You come here, whenever I ask you. I will wine you, dine you and buy you beautiful things. You will want for nothing, but you will do my bidding. I am your Master, and you will do anything I ask of you.” He pauses. “I don’t think you will find it unpleasant. I think you enjoyed yourself as much as I did this evening.”

I gulp as conflicting thoughts raced around my head. “Um, yes, thanks. It’s a great offer. But why me? You must have a hundred women chasing you. What about my college? I wasn’t looking for a life as a kept woman. What happens when you get bored with me? And I’ve thrown my college education away?”

“Fair point, and fair questions.” he says, sitting again, close, and looking into my face. Yes, you’re right. I can take my pick, but there are always strings. I have a casual date with some money-seeking huntress, and suddenly find that I’m supposed to have offered marriage, a house and fifty thousand a month housekeeping. Somehow, I’ve taken advantage of her and ruined her reputation. Next thing I know, I’m up to my ears in lawsuits. This is a ‘no-strings’ offer Elizabeth. If you accept it, we have a Contract. I am your Master, and in return, you will have everything you want. Your college? You don’t have to give it up. Quite the opposite, you should pursue it.”

He bites his lip, thinking. “How’s this then? I will pay your way through college; fees, living expenses, the lot and you’ll have a credit card to get anything else you need. You’re doing Business Sstudies, you said?”

I nod.

“I assume they like you to get some practical experience with ‘Big Corp’, as well as the academic material?”

I nod again.

“Right, then, you get that experience here in my company, in that office over there.” He points again at the office block. “You serve as an intern there, and get your business experience that way.” He holds out his hands to me as I listen, dumbstruck. “Actually it’s perfect. You can take your pay through the internship. That covers you against any……embarrassment….as to where your funds are coming from.”

He looks me in the eye. “What do you think?”

Those blue, blue eyes stare into mine. At some level I feel that I should be outraged. This man, who I only met earlier today, is offering me a position as his personal… what? Concubine? Mistress? Whore? Call girl? But it doesn’t feel like that. I like him. And he seems to like me. And if I could concentrate on my studies instead of cleaning up rooms after some jerk has had too much booze and thrown up in there….

He is still silent, gazing steadily into my face.

I make up my mind. “When do I start?”

He nods and smiles, then looks at me and says “When do I start, Master?”

Yes of course. I cast my eyes down.  “When do I start, Master?”

“Right now.” he says cheerfully, then pauses. “Outside this apartment, a simple ‘Sir’ will be sufficient I think.”

“Yes, Master. And what would you like me to do, Master? Right now?”

“I assume you can type? Yes? There’s a computer and printer in the office through there.” He points at another door. “You can start by writing a letter of resignation. After that, you can join me in the bedroom.”

The Story Continues in “The Master’s Courtesan”

The Master’s Courtesan

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Part Three of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

The Master’s Courtesan

I wake up in my dingy bedroom, and for a moment stare, confused, at the ceiling, events of the previous day swirling up inside me

It seems unreal; fantastic but unreal. I shake my head. After meeting and having mind-blowing sex with a complete stranger, he offered me a job as his… his what? Courtesan? Call-girl? And I accepted.

He said he owned the hotel. He said he owned a huge company. And I believed it all. Took it at face value.

My stomach churns. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. Was I taken in by some con-man, after a quick roll with the maid?

I wrote a letter last night, resigning my old, horrible job; cleaning at the hotel.

Oh my God! I resigned my job! What did I do with the letter?

Then I remember. It’s still in his apartment. I’ve not delivered it yet. So, technically, I’m still working at the hotel, and due to start my shift again this afternoon.

I shake my head. Can it be real? The whole of the previous day feels surreal to me; from my foolish decision to use the stranger’s shower, to the mind-boggling sex, when he found me there, naked in his bathroom.

I haul myself out of bed and set about making coffee and toast. My head doesn’t work in the morning until I have coffee inside me.

The intercom buzzes. “Delivery for Elizabeth Kimberley.”

I buzz back. “Just leave it in the pigeonhole.”

“Sorry. Needs a signature.”

“Okay. I’m coming down.”

What could it be? Am I expecting anything? I shake my head, trying to think if I have perhaps ordered something on the internet, and forgotten about it. Not very likely on my very limited budget.

The courier is waiting in the tatty lobby, with its peeling paint and the smell of damp. In fact, he has two items for me; a letter and a package. Puzzled, I sign for them, and take them back to my room. I open the letter first, then take a deep breath as I read the contents, on letter-headed paper, for the Haswell Corporation.

“Dear Miss Kimberley,

We are pleased to inform you that your application for an internship with our company has been accepted.

Please report to our offices……….”

I read on, catching my breath as I do so, at the stated salary; much, much more than I earn now in my miserable cleaning job. Then I do a double-take. I am being instructed to report to the offices this afternoon!

My eye drifts to the parcel. With slightly trembling fingers, I open it to find a skirt and jacket, blouses and a pair of shoes, all very sensible and business-like, but beautifully made and expensive looking. I check the labels and take a deep breath. These designer brands cost a fortune. I would never be able to buy them myself.

I try them on, smoothing down the gorgeous slinky fabric over my curves. Looking at myself in the cracked mirror, I have to admit, the outfit looks great, and not quite as ‘sensible’ as I had first thought. The jacket is tightly tailored to my trim waist and large breasts. The blouse is cut just low enough to suggest a cleavage without actually revealing anything. The shoes have just enough heel to show off my legs, and the skirt, whilst at a business-like knee length, is cut with a sexy swirl from the hem.

I love it. Obviously it is a gift from him, but how had he known my size? For that matter, how had he known my address, to have them delivered?

I check the time. I have two hours before I must report for my new job. I gulp down my coffee. A little low key make-up, and my long red hair confined into an orderly bun, and I feel ready to take on the world

__________

Arriving at the office building for Haswell Corp, all steel and glass plate, I hand over the letter at Reception. The receptionist checks my name against a daybook and directs me to the tenth floor, where I find a second reception desk, where a pleasant looking woman sits behind it.

Again I hold out the letter. “Hello. My name is Elizabeth Kimberley. I was told to report here.”

The woman smiles. “Ah yes Miss Kimberley. Mr Haswell is expecting you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

She buzzes through on an intercom. “Mr Haswell. Elizabeth Kimberley for you.”

“Thank you Francis.” replies the voice I came to know so well yesterday, under such unusual circumstances. “I’ll just be five minutes. Please ask her to take a seat.”

‘Francis’ waves me to a line of low chairs and, gesturing at a coffee thermos on a low table, says “Make yourself comfortable Miss Kimberley. Do help yourself to coffee.” But I am feeling too nervous to want the coffee.

After a short time, the intercom buzzes. “Show her in please, Francis.”

“Come with me.” she smiles. “It’s just through here.”

Francis leads me through, taps on a door and then after a moment, opens it. “Miss Kimberley for you, Sir.” Then she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.

The room is a wide open office, one wall, entirely glass, overlooking the stunning cityscape far below. Neutral colours and minimalist decor only accentuate a large desk in a beautiful polished timber, walnut perhaps. I do not study it, because behind the desk, sits Richard Haswell.

He rises, smiling. In a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and immaculately polished shoes, his slightly greying hair contrasts against deeply tanned skin and piercingly blue eyes. Ye gods, but he is handsome. And that smile makes me melt inside, as I remember that same smile the night before.

“Ah, “Elizabeth. Good to see you again. Have a seat.” He waves me to a couch overlooking the amazing vista. “Coffee?”

“Please, yes.” I am nervous, not knowing quite what is expected of me, and now think that some caffeine pumping through my bloodstream might help. We have a contract, this man and I, and so far, he is fulfilling his end of it perfectly. Does he expect me to perform my end of it here?

He buzzes through, “Francis. Coffee for two please.” Then he looks at me, perhaps divining my confusion. “Don’t worry Elizabeth. Here and now, in this place, you are a trainee, an intern. Your other duties come later.”

I smile, nervously and nod my head.

“The suit looks good on you. I see I got the sizes right.”

“It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Elizabeth, but it is not simply a gift. Working here, you are representing my corporation, and I cannot have my representatives looking like, forgive me, but looking like hotel cleaners. Those clothes you were wearing last night, while well-chosen I’m sure, on your limited budget, are not the kind of clothes I want my people to be seen in.”

“However….” and he smiles again, arching his eyebrows. “…there will be others. Some should be waiting for you when you get home. I will expect you to wear them when you visit me this evening.”

There is a tap at the door and Francis silently enters with a tray bearing coffee pot and two cups, puts it down on the coffee table and silently departs.

I gulp, then “How did you know my address to send the things?”

“I asked the driver I sent you home with last night to make a note of it, and, aren’t you forgetting? You wrote your resignation letter on my laptop. Your address was on the letter too.” He hesitates. “That’s not a good address Elizabeth. Not a safe place for a single girl to live.”

He pauses. “I am assuming you are single? No jealous husband out there?”

I shake my head.

“Boyfriend?”

I shake my head again. “I’ve been working so hard. My job and my studies….

He nods in satisfaction. “Of course. Good. That’s one potential problem dealt with then. Now… and I have to ask you this….” He leans forward close. “Are you still happy with our arrangement? You need to tell me.”

I nod, my mouth a little dry. “Yes, you’ve done everything you promised so far. I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”

He nods his head in approval. “Perfect answer, Elizabeth. Yes, I always keep my promises, and I deliver my end of any agreement. It’s good to know that you see it that way too.”

“Won’t people think it a bit odd that I suddenly appear like this? Out of the blue? It’s not as though I had an interview or anything?”

He laughs “I think you did rather well at your ‘interview’ last night Elizabeth. As for people thinking it odd; no they won’t. I have a number of employees who I met outside normal channels and offered a job.” He sees my expression and laughs. “No, not quite like you and I met, and no, not with the same agreement. But Francis out there for example, my PA: I met her on a train. She was reading the business pages of her newspaper, quite unusual in a woman, if you don’t mind me saying so. We got talking about her views on equities and a city merger that was coming up. She was working as a waitress. All that potential going to waste. I hired her on the spot. A good PA needs to understand the business of her employer. So, no, don’t worry. The staff here know that I choose employees for my own reasons.”

I am much reassured. “So what happens now?”

“Francis will take you to HR. They’ll take you through the usual formalities, and then we’ll put you through the usual intern routine. You will spend time in every department of the company: Finance, Procurement, Marketing, everything. You will see the whole machine and we can find out how much you already know, see where you can fit in best.”

He leans back in his seat, holding me with his eyes.

“Now, your other duties. When you finish here for the day, you will go home and put on the clothes you will find waiting for you. Wear your hair up, as you have it now. I expect to see you in my apartment at 8pm. Any questions?”

“Um, I’m not sure what to call you?”

He laughs. “Here, I am ‘Mr Haswell’. When I take you out to dinner, I am Richard. In my apartment, you call me ‘Master’. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr Haswell.”

“Finish your coffee.” He buzzes the intercom again. “Francis, can you take Elizabeth to HR please.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur as I sign my contract of employment, am introduced to people, shown my office, talked through rules and procedures. By five-thirty I am exhausted, my head spinning, and ready to go home. Eager too. I want to see what is waiting for me.

There are a number of parcels waiting for me in the tatty lobby. Dashing up to my room, I open them with trembling anticipation.

There is a pair of shoes, black satin with impossibly high heels; beautiful but not intended for actually walking in. Richard is tall, but wearing them, standing, I might be taller. Then…. No, he is well over six feet tall. And, I reflect, we are all the same height lying down….

Stockings and underwear, mainly in black, but some in red, others in white. A bodice, with long silk laces dangling invitingly. A skirt, with a long slit up the side, far more daringly cut than I would normally wear. Another skirt, wraparound and, I notice, cut for ‘easy access’. The list goes on, and I am dazzled at suddenly having so many beautiful things.

I cannot wear them all, and so I take my time, trying them on in turn, twisting this way and that, trying to see myself from all angles in the stained mirror. Eventually, I make my choice, adding only a small necklace from my own things; a glass dewdrop on a silver chain. I take a long dark coat, a cover-all to my outfit.

I do not want to walk through the dark streets, but with my new and gloriously high salary, I can afford a taxi. At the hotel, I spot Ricardo at Reception.

Damn. This could be embarrassing.

I decide to be brazen and simply walk to take the lift, behaving as though I have every right to do so. Then it dawns on me. I do have every right to do so. I have been invited. I walk towards the lift only to hear Ricardo’s voice behind me.

“Excuse me Madam. That’s a private lift. The main lift for the hotel is over there.” I turn to see him pointing across the lobby, then recognition dawns across his face and his polite ‘Talk to the Guests’ face turns to a scowl. “Beth! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? First you don’t turn up to work, then you march in hours late, as though you owned the place.”

Words stick in my throat. I wrote my resignation letter. Surely Richard would have given it to the hotel manager?

“Mr Chambers is fucking furious with you. He told me to send you down to the office if you turned up.”

What do I say? I have no idea, so I settle for the truth. “I’m sorry Ricardo, and please tell me Mr Chambers so, but I’ll have to talk to him later. I have an appointment upstairs right now.”

“The fuck you do! Get your ass into the office. I’ll tell Mr Chambers that you’re here.”

I don’t know what to do. “Ricardo. I’ll come back to explain, but right now I have to go.” And I walk back to the lift, pressing the ‘Going Up’ button.

Ricardo is talking on his phone. I overhear some of it. “…don’t know what the fuck she thinks she’s doing...…” and as he finishes speaking, Mr Chambers, my old boss, stamps into the lobby.

“What is all this about? Beth, you didn’t turn up to work today. Where were you? And what do you think you’re doing trying to take the Penthouse lift?”

His face changes as he registers my appearance, how I am dressed. “What’s this then? Get your lazy butt…….”

The reception phone rings, and Ricardo picks it up. “Good evening. Hotel Haswell. How can I help you? Oh yes, Mr Haswell……. Yes?” His eyes cross over to me. “Yes Sir, she’s here. We were just having a little chat. Yes, I’ll send her right up.”

He puts the phone down and looks me up and down. “Got our feet right under the table, haven’t we?” he says, his voice dripping venom. “Go on then. Off you go. Mr Haswell wants to see you.” His lip curls, and unnerved, but determined not to show it, I lift my head high. and take the lift to the penthouse.

__________

I knock on the door, and Richard Haswell, billionaire owner of one of the largest corporations in the world, my Master, unlocks the apartment door, inviting me in with an outstretched arm. Inside, he takes my coat, slipping it from my shoulders, hanging it carefully in a closet. Now in casual dress again, he wears a loose white linen shirt and tight black jeans.

He leans in close, to kiss me, then looks closely at my face.

“Are you alright Elizabeth? You seem upset?”

I nod, not wanting to discuss what has just happened. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.” He holds my gaze, clearly not believing me, then changes the subject.

“Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

“Err, yes, I’m hungry. Actually I didn’t eat.” I say. Then flushing, “I was excited by all the lovely things you sent. Thank you.”

“He smiles, nodding acknowledgement. “You’re welcome Elizabeth, and I see you have used them well. Come over here, into the light. I want to see you.”

He leads me to stand by the window, then sits in an armchair, looking at me. “Turn around. Let me look at you.”

A little self-consciously, I turn around under his fixed gaze. I am wearing a simple blouse, very low cut to show my cleavage. The teardrop pendant dangles between my breasts. The wraparound skirt, tight on my tiny waist, flares out, silky and sensuous over my long legs. I pull the skirt slightly to one side, showing my Master one be-stockinged thigh.

He sits, head on one hand, propped on the chair arm, just watching, drinking me in. He looks simply astonishing, dark haired and dark eyed as he gazes on, his beautiful chiselled features fixed on me. He is my Master now, but I have never felt so powerful, so alive.

“You look beautiful Elizabeth.”

I flush again, unsure now of his wishes.

“Unbutton your blouse.” he says, “Slowly.” Then seeing my eyes flick to the window. “It’s mirrored glass. No-one can see in. Now, unbutton your blouse.”

He expects to be obeyed, my Master, and so, one by one, I slip the buttons free, until the silken garment hangs loose from my shoulders, my full breasts protruding beyond the folds.

“Take it off.” Obediently I let the blouse slide to the ground where it ripples onto the thick soft carpet. My bra, chosen to enhance my cleavage, is black satin, matching the thong I am wearing. I start to take off the bra, but he says “No. Come here.” and compliantly I approach.

I feel incredibly erotic. My total surrender of will to this man’s wishes is arousing something in me which, until only the previous day, I had not suspected in myself. I warm from within, embers of arousal beginning to fan into flame.

“Closer. I want to be able to touch you, to smell you.”

As I stand over him, he reaches into the folds of the skirt, pulling the fabric back in a train behind me, exposing the thong panties along with my stockings. His hands continue their journey behind me to the tops of my thighs, gathering me in and pulling me close, his face against my stomach as he kisses and nibbles my skin. Then, one hand still clasping me from behind, with a single finger he slides inside the front of my panties, pulling them slightly to one side and, lowering his head, nuzzling his face against me.

I can feel his hot breath against me as he softly bites at my skin. My breathing quickens and he smiles as he hears it. “Good girl Elizabeth. That’s right.  I’ll have you screaming soon enough, but you have to earn it.”

He laps slowly at my sex, tongue exploring, then says “Part your legs. Spread your thighs for me.”

He slides two fingers between my legs, over my bud and towards my pussy, stroking gently, fondling my clit, massaging my pussy lips. I begin to gasp, and I stagger slightly as my body reacts to the oh-so-gentle stimulation he is giving me, waves of arousal fanning over me.

“Did I say you could move?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m sorry. It’s not easy to stand still when you’re doing that.”

He glances up into my eyes. “Is that so? We’d better do something about it then.”

In a swift change of mood, grabbing my wrists, he pulls me into the bedroom and pushes me roughly back against a wall. Hand hard on me, flat between my breasts, he simply says “Stay.”

On a side table there are a number of things laid out; vibes, ropes, dildos, handcuffs….

He takes the cuffs. Snapping them onto my wrists he says “What’s it to be? Stretched up or bending over?”

I don’t know what to say, so, heart beginning to race, I say nothing. “Silent again Elizabeth? Let’s see what we can do to change that.” Grabbing my arms roughly, he raises my arms above my head, to where I notice for the first time, a hook in the wall. Attaching the cuffs to the hook, he produces the spreader bar I saw the night before, cuffing in first one ankle, and then the other. He pulls the pins from my hair, and it cascades down over my breasts to my waist, a tumble of auburn waves.

He stands back to admire his handiwork and then shakes his head. Kneeling, he adjusts the bar, pushing it and my ankles wider. “Spread your legs. I want you open.” His voice is harsh, intense.

It is difficult to move at all, and as I try to obey, I totter, all my weight on my wrists for a moment. From his kneeling position, my Master forces my ankles further apart, and further, until I can barely stand at all, my wrists taking the strain. He unwraps my legs from the folds of the skirt, tucking the fabric behind me.

“That’s better.” he says. “Now we have you properly presented.”

Standing back, he starts to strip off, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his shirt. I am entranced by his tight, lean muscled body, by the dark line of hair leading from his navel to his belt and below. Broad shouldered and tight waisted, I want nothing more, than for him to fuck me stupid. His black jeans, previously a perfect fit, are straining at the front, and as he unbelts and unzips, his manhood stands upright against him, firm against his flat stomach. I watch, hypnotised by his beautiful physique, staring at his erection.

He follows my stare and grins. “Like what you see Elizabeth? Don’t worry, it’s all going to be inside you. I’m just deciding where.”

Coming close, he lifts my breasts from the confines of the lacy bra, cupping and kneading each in turn. He tweaks at the nipples, raising them to hard brown buds, then bends to suckle one, whilst pinching and squeezing the other, sending electric waves of arousal through my core to my pussy.

My breathing is so heavy now, so fast, and moisture is running down my skin, from the sweat of my rising heat, and from my pussy, now flowing freely down my legs. He looks at me, eyes lingering on my breasts, my flat belly, the parting of my legs.

“Too many clothes.” he says, grasps the skirt at the waist and tugs. With a pop of buttons and a rip of fabric it tears free. I start to protest, but roughly he grabs my chin, turning my face to his. “No!” he says, then, more gently, “I’ll buy you another one.”

The ragged cloth of the beautiful skirt is cast to one side, and next he reaches for my panties, pulls and tears, ripping them off me.

I am still wearing the bra and stockings. “You can keep those on.” he says, then kisses me fiercely. There is nothing tender or gentle here. His mouth is hard on my lips, forcing my mouth open.

He drops to his knees, face up close, pulls my pussy lips apart and wraps his tongue around my clit, working it mercilessly.

I moan, trying to struggle, but I have nowhere to go. Cuffed hand and foot, spread-legged and with my body-weight on my wrists, I cannot move; only writhe helplessly against the cascade of sensation. His tongue working my clit, he slips fingers into my pussy and rubs, hard, against my inner walls. I can hear nothing, feel nothing, except the pain of my wrists and the inescapable pleasure/pain/delight/torment of my Master’s tongue and fingers. My moaning increases, turning to squeals, fighting against the breathlessness of my rapid breathing.

My heart pounding, climax wells up inside and my squeals turn into a triumphant scream as orgasm pulses through me, pounding through my pussy, belly and thighs. My legs give under me and I hang by my wrists, writhing and shaking, helpless in the grip of my crashing climax.

I do not hang for long. Before the spasm passes, my Master rises, unhooks the handcuffs from the wall and propels me to the bed. Hobbled by the bar, legs asplay I can barely move, and he picks me up, depositing me roughly, kneeling, face down over the bed.

My legs spread-eagled by the bar, my pink and swollen sex, open and displayed to him, as he kneels down behind me, one hand on my back, pinning me down, he thrusts his shaft hard into me.

He is huge, and at almost any other time, I would struggle to accommodate him, but in my state of screaming arousal, he sheaths himself, full length, straight into my dripping passage, pounding into me.

I scream again, and orgasm wells up once more, my pussy walls grasping and gripping as they throb around him.

His hand leaves my back and I feel him grasping me by the waist, forcing me back and forth against his rhythm, deepening the drive of his shaft, intensifying his already deep thrusting as he rams into me, plunging into my depths.

Through my own cries, I hear him moan and gasp and feel the pulsing of his cock spurting into me. For moments, he holds, shuddering against me, then relaxes down onto me with a gasp.

For half a minute, he simply lies on top of me, spent, then he takes a couple of deep breathes.  I feel him kiss the back of my neck. “That was good Elizabeth. Thank you.” And he pulls away, moving to unshackle me.

He throws me a robe, white towelling, and puts one on himself.

“Ready to eat?” he asks.

I suddenly realise I am starving. “Oh yes, I am.”

“We’ll have something sent up. Order what you want. I’ll have steak, rare.”

I order the same for myself, slightly self-conscious to be asking for service from people I was working with only the day before.

“What happened downstairs in the lobby, Elizabeth? You looked upset as you came in.”

“I’d forgotten to give them my letter of resignation.” I said sheepishly. “They wanted to know why the maid was taking the private lift to the Penthouse.”

He looks me in the eye. “You didn’t forget. It was here. I’m sure you assumed that I would pass it along. In fact, I had realised that it is not appropriate.”

Confused, I shake my head. He continues. “You haven’t resigned. You’ve just been promoted. Yesterday, you were just as much my employee as yesterday. I own this hotel remember. We are simply working to a different contract.”

My Master takes my chin in his hand, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry if I caused you embarrassment. I should have thought to let them know down there. I was thinking of you in other ways…”

He flashes his eyebrows at me and winks, and I laugh, even as I think, “He’s apologising to me?”

“Now,” he continues, “a break I think, for rest and refreshment.”

A break? And then?

There is a knock at the door. “Room service.”

He smiles at me. “Ah, perfect timing.” Then he calls out. “Leave it there.”

And to me. “I’ll make sure that things are settled with your previous manager. For now, I don’t see the need for you to meet any of the other staff.”

He waits a moment, then opens the door, bringing in a trolley bearing our meals, plus champagne on ice and strawberries and cream.

An hour later, meal eaten, and a glass or two inside me, I am lying on the fur rug in front of the fire, eating strawberries dipped in champagne and cream, revelling in the sheer luxury of it all. My Master, sitting on the couch has, I notice, drunk only a little of the champagne and is watching me closely.

As I dip each bright red berry in the wine, then the cream, I pass it, dripping, to my mouth, sucking it gradually through my lips. Realising I am now giving a performance, I take my time, locking my eyes with his, as I lick and suck the creamy champagne from the fruit. I see the approval in his eyes as, one at a time, I slowly consume each fruit.

He watches as I caress each strawberry with my tongue, licking it clean of the dripping cream before gently biting in and swallowing.

He stands up, towering over me, lying at his feet. “On your knees, Elizabeth.”

I obey. Looking up at my Master, it is clear what I am being instructed to do. I rise to kneel before him, untie the belt of his robe, and open the robe to expose his already hard cock.

Only an hour ago, this man came, explosively inside me, and yet now, again, his erection stands proud.

“I’ve not had a shower yet Elizabeth. Lick me clean.”

I lean forward to kiss away the drop of pre-cum already glistening at the tip, sucking my lips at the salt-sweet flavour of him. Then I start to lick slowly at the head of his shaft, tracing its contours with my tongue, exploring and probing with the tip. I feel my Master shudder and hear his gasp. His voice is hoarse as he says to me “All of it Elizabeth.”

Compliantly, I lick the full length of his shaft, starting at the base and drawing long slow strokes up his massive, throbbing member. His breathing turns ragged and he starts to flow, as do I. My slit is wet again and juices trickle inside my thighs to my knees.

He grasps my head, winding my hair tight around his fingers. “Open your mouth.”

I do so, wondering how much of his length I can take; certainly not all of it, but he says huskily “Use your hands as well.”

Fastening my lips around him, I use my hands to take much of his length. My saturated slit is running freely with pussy juices and I use some on my hands, to make the grip I have on him, slippery and pleasurable.

His breathing is patchy and looking up, I see him looking down, watching as his cock slides in and out of my mouth. With my lips, I give him as tight as grip as I can, and with my hands, I feel his tension build. His balls tighten and harden, his musky scent growing stronger as his flow increases. I taste his essence filling my mouth and then, with a groan, he grabs my head hard, pinning me, and thrusts hard into my mouth. My hands prevent him filling my throat, but as he spurts, I gag, his cum hitting the back of my throat. His pelvis flexes and bucks as he shoots into me and cum dribbles from my lips, dripping onto my breasts.

As he relaxes, he pulls my head back, withdrawing from me a little and turning my face upwards. “Don’t even think about spitting.” he says, eyes intense as he watches me lick my lips clean and swallow his cream. He reaches down and with one finger, wipes the cum from my breast, then holds the finger to my mouth. “Finish it.” and I lick the finger clean.

“Good girl.” he says approvingly. “Now, finish your strawberries.”

The Story Continues in

The Master’s Desires

The Master’s Desires

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Part Four of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Author: Simone Leigh

Part Four

The Master’s Desires

I am lying on a bed, blindfolded, my arms stretched wide above my head, chained to the bedposts.

I am wearing very little; a silky black camisole, stockings with black lacy tops and a matching thong which, right now, is doing little except act as a partial barrier to my flooding pussy.

My legs are spread and between them, kneeling I think, although I cannot be sure because I cannot see, or even move very well, is Richard Haswell, billionaire owner of one of the largest corporations in the country, perhaps the world. My Master.

Two weeks ago, I had had nothing. I was an almost penniless student doing dead-end work to make ends meet. Now, I have an amazing job, am receiving top class training so that I will one day be qualified and independent in my own right, am showered with beautiful clothes, wined and dined and taken to amazing places, and for all this, all I have to do is give my Master whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.

I think he is still clothed. I feel the smooth fabric of his tight cut black jeans rubbing against my open thighs, his erection pressed against my stomach.

His lips are suckling at my left nipple, tongue, manipulating and kneading it, sending electric currents of desire, shockingly, down through my stomach, hips and aching cunt.

He switches to the other nipple, and I feel him forcing my legs further apart with his knees, arranging me to his satisfaction. His hot breath on the sensitive skin of my breasts is making me flush and sweat, and I feeling his tongue trail along my cleavage, licking me dry. My breath is rapid and shallow, and as his tongue rides back to a nipple, he bites, not hard, but enough to startle me and I half gasp, half yelp at the almost-pain of his nip.

“No noise, Elizabeth.” he says. “This time, I want you silent.” Then he bites the other nipple, and I arch my back and shuddering, try, obediently, to be silent through my panting.

One hand slides across my breast, pinches a nipple, then tweaks and teases until I know that it is a solid, erect bud, crinkling rose against my celtic pale skin.

The other nipple gets the same treatment, and I writhe under him, my hips beginning to judder with the need to have him inside me. So far, he has touched only my breasts, belly and neck, not yet venturing near my streaming pussy and swollen clit.

“What do you want Elizabeth?” he asks in his deep, rich voice

What does he expect me to say? I want him to plant his mouth over my slit and suck me dry. I want him to fuck me until I can’t stand. But all I can do is moan incoherently.

Earlier that day, having been sent to his office with some documents for his attention, he waves me to a seat. “Sit down Elizabeth. I just wanted a brief chat. Just bear with me. I won’t be a moment.”

Quickly he scans the documents then signs one, passing the file back to me. “Thanks. Give those back to Mack, and tell him I’d like to see the two-year forecasts as well.

I make a quick note of this. ‘Mack’, Micale Kane, manager Procurement Section, is, for the moment, my immediate supervisor, while I spend a couple of weeks in Procurement, as part of my familiarisation program with the company; learning what each department does, how it works, where it fits in the scheme of things.

I don’t care for the man. His smile always seems fake to me, and while he hasn’t tried to make a move on me, there is something about him that always makes me want to wash my hands after I’ve been talking to him.

Of course, I have said none of this to Richard Haswell. I am the ‘new kid on the block’ and even with our ‘Special Arrangement’ I am sure that it would not be well received if I started mouthing off about people who have been here years.

“So, how’s the training going?”

Pulling back my attention where it belongs, I reply “Great. It’s so interesting. Being able to link up what they teach us at college with how a company actually works in practice…”

“And the college? Your studies?”

“Oh that’s fine now. HR got me onto a day release program. Three days a week here and two in college. I can cover all the ground that way, get to grips with the things I need to learn both on paper and for real.”

He nods in satisfaction. “Good. And you are getting to grips with things? Where are you now for example? Procurement is it?”

I nod. Yes, I’m working my way through. I haven’t got my head my head around all of it yet, but I’ll get there.”

“Something’s giving you problems? What is it?”

I am reluctant to ask him a lot of questions. This is after all, Richard Haswell. Billionaire tycoons have better things to do than answer questions from half-cocked trainees.

“C’mon.” he says. “Out with it.” He glances at the clock. “I have fifteen minutes before my next meeting. Ask.”

“Err, well. I was learning my way around the procurement process and trying to tie up in my head where the paperwork fits in with the computer system….”

“And…?”

“Well I couldn’t figure it out. It was just so complicated with all the different projects you have going on, and in so many different places, so I decided just to pick one project, as a kind of worked example, and follow the paper trail.”

Nodding his head, “Good idea. So…?”

“Well I picked the Hanover Mall project you’ve got going on over the other side of the City. And I just couldn’t get it to work when I tried to fit the pieces together. I kept coming back in a loop and finding myself at the same place again. It was like the same things were being charged twice, or more than twice. I couldn’t get it at all.”

I shrug. “Obviously that can’t be it and I’m probably missing something really obvious….” My voice trails off. I feel nervous, making a fool of myself in front of this man who has given me the opportunity of a lifetime.

He nods thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “As you say, you are probably missing something. Print me off a copy of what you’ve got and bring it over tonight. I’ll take a look at it for you. Meanwhile…” he looks at me meaningfully, “speaking of tonight, seven pm?”

I cast my eyes down “Yes, Sir.”

He sucks in his cheeks, smiling. “Elizabeth. Don’t do that here. I can’t attend meetings with a raging hard-on.”

Lost for words, I bob a curtsey. “Yes, Mr Haswell.” And I go about my business.

_____________________

Later that evening, I am sure he does have a raging hard-on. While I can’t see it, I can feel it pressing against my thighs as he leans into me.

“What do you want Elizabeth? This won’t go any further until you ask me for it.”

I hear a buzz, then feel a sharp pain in one nipple, then the other, as he clamps vibes to my small, firm buttons.

This is too much and I struggle against the chains, trying to escape the electric arousal spiking through me. My pussy gushes and I moan, trying to thrash against/into the sensation.

“What do you want Elizabeth? Tell me. You have to tell me.”

“I want… I want…”

“Yes?”

“Oh God! I want you inside me. Please. I want you inside me.”

“That’s better. And then?”

I am half-crazy with lust. I can barely think straight. “I want you to fuck me. Please just fuck me.”

“That’s good Elizabeth. And how do you want to be fucked?”

I am not sure how to answer, and hesitate, my panting growing ragged.

“How do you want to be fucked Elizabeth? Tongue? Finger fuck? “Or do I get myself ball deep inside you and pin your pretty brains to your skull?”

The image this question conjures up is too much, and I moan again. It is about the only thing I can do, bound and blindfolded.

“Enough noise, Elizabeth. If you can’t ask nicely for what you want, I think I’ll shut you up.” And fingers prise my mouth open, forcing something inside and then tying around at the back of my head. A ball of some kind? It is soft and rubbery against my tongue but my mouth is held open against it. I am effectively gagged, and now my helpless moans are muffled.

“You look good like that Elizabeth, with your mouth held open. I might have to think about what else I might put in there….. But now, a little more stimulation I think.” he says.

After a moment, I feel a sharp pain in first one nipple and then the other. I try to yelp, but cannot. Then my already sensitive nipples start to vibrate, gently at first. I am just beginning to handle this exquisite sensation, when the vibe increases violently. I convulse, my hips bucking, my urgent cries blocked by my gag. I try to speak, but cannot.

“Too late now Elizabeth. You had your chance to speak.”

He lifts my left leg by the knee, passing something under it. A rope? A belt? A cuff? Blinded as I am, I cannot tell. Then he does the same with my right knee. Abruptly, I find both legs being spread, parted at the knees, lifting me from the hip and displaying my throbbing pussy. For a moment, my weight is suspended, quite painfully, as my knees are pulled back and towards my face, but then he pushes something under my hips, a pillow or cushion, supporting me and the pain subsides.

I lie, almost crucified on the bed, blindfolded, gagged, arms chained and, legs bent almost double back on themselves, pussy splayed.

“Not quite wide enough I think.” comes my Master’s voice. And the ropes pull my knees further apart.

He adjusts the cushion under my hips, forcing my back to arch, pushing my hips higher, my dripping pussy even more exposed.

“That’s better Elizabeth. Now I can see you properly.”

I am so ready for him. Frantic with arousal, crazy with lust, I just want him to plunge his cock inside me, and pound away at my core.

Instead, I feel the lightest of touches. Fingers part my pussy lips, stretching them wide. His face is so close to me. I feel his warm breath over my swollen and pulsating labia, then his tongue curls around them, over and around, continuing on to my pussy where he pushes in, licking me inside. The pressure of his face against me tells me he is licking as deep as he is able, probing with the tip, tasting my juices. His whole mouth fastens around me, and he starts chewing at me, tongue working me all the time, as I heave and struggle and squeal against my bonds, the gag, the exquisite pleasure-pain of it all. I try to scream against the ball-gag in my mouth, but it fights against me, and only muffled cries escape.

Then he withdraws, leaving me shaking and shuddering, hips jerking and bucking against my ties. My pussy is hot, drenched, engorged and I am desperate to have him inside me.

He removes the gag. “Anything to say Elizabeth?” he asks. “Any requests yet? You know you have to ask first.”

My mouth dry from the gag, jaws aching from being held open, I have trouble speaking. “Inside me. Please, Master, inside me.”

“That’s better, Elizabeth. You are learning nicely. I’ll take your training a little further after today.”

I barely have time to wonder what he means by this, when he does indeed slip something inside me. Sliding easily against my slick pussy lips, he inserts something which, for a moment, simply sits inside me. Then it also starts to vibrate to a pulsing rhythm. An egg?

I convulse again, but still am pinned. “Calm down Elizabeth. We’ve barely started.” He probes with a finger inside me, pushing the vibe in deeper, pressing it in as far as it will go. “Now Elizabeth. I want to hear you yelp for me.” And he turns the power up, and this time, the part moan-part howl that comes from me is loud and long.  Mercilessly he wraps his mouth around my clit, sucking hard at my swollen bud. I struggle and wriggle, trying to escape the sensation over-load, but at the same time, glorying in it.

The combination of vibration on my nipples, pulsing from within, and his mouth clamped over me, tormenting-pleasuring me is irresistible.

From within, orgasm swells and rises, building to the peak and then in an uncontrollable surge takes me. My Master works my clit with his tongue, drinking me as I gush, one hand on my flat belly, massaging my inner muscles against the egg. I scream against the unbearable sweet-bitter-pleasure-pain that overwhelms me completely.

“Stop! Stop! Oh God please stop!”

Instantly, he takes his mouth away, inserts his hand and flicks the egg out of me, pulling the clamps off my nipples. The blindfold is ripped from my face, and in the shimmer of the candlelight. I see my Master, shirtless, and undoing his straining belt. Unbuttoning his jeans, his erection bulges from the fabric, standing upright as he releases it, rigid against him.

He climbs onto the bed, settling between my knees, the tip of his penis kissing my pussy lips, still twitching in the after-shock of orgasm. As he touches me, my inner muscles convulse again, at the thought of this thick shaft penetrating me.

“Watch me, Elizabeth.” he says and obediently, I look up into his face.

“No.” he says. “There.” And he eye-points south, to where his massive cock is brushing my entrance. “Watch me Elizabeth. Watch me fucking your cunt.”

I drop my gaze, and he leans in, pushing slowly inside me. An inch. Two inches. Four inches. His thick shaft, wide against my pussy, stretching me open, penetrates slowly and I tremble.

He breaths deeply and says “That’s good Elizabeth. That’s really good. Keep watching.”

Briefly my eyes flick up to his. “Down! Remember what you’re looking at.”

His own hips quiver, and then with a gasp, he plunges the rest of the way inside me, his balls banging against me. Almost instantly my climax starts to gather again, and I moan, then yell, as he pounds inside me to a slow rhythm. Deliberately, he times each stroke, and I watch as he thrusts his cock deep into my core, my pussy welcoming him as he bangs hard into me.

Again and again, I watch as he sheaths himself in me, thrusting in deep, as far as he can go against my inner walls. I gasp and quake, but bound as I am, all I can do is shake, and quiver, and scream. I fling my head back, wanting to scream to the ceiling, but he grabs the back of my head and, fingers twisting through my long red hair, pulls me forward. “Watch, I said!” he says fiercely. “I want you to watch me fucking you.”

I look, as his cock fucks my slick pussy, then, with a deep intake of breath, he shudders against me, pumping his load into me, grasping onto the ropes restraining my knees as he climaxes inside me.

For a moment he remains still, his chest heaving, skin glistening with sweat. Then pulling himself upright, he looks me in the eye and grins. As he unbuckles the cuffs from my knees he says “You’re quite a woman Elizabeth.” With both hands, he sweeps sweaty hair back over his head.

Then he looks at me. “Have you eaten?”

“Er, no. With you asking me to come a bit earlier, I didn’t….”

“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

Would I? On the arm of this amazing man?

“I’d love to, but I’ve nothing to wear. I can’t go out in public wearing what I arrived in.” I’m sure the taxi driver had my number, or at least x-ray vision, when I wore just a long coat over my undies.

He waves that off. “Yes you do. Look in there…” and he points at one of the wardrobes. “I have prepared for this eventuality and you will find plenty to choose from in there. Pick something…. Demure but accessible.”

I begin to see where this is going. “What kind of place are we going to?”

He thinks for a minute. “Courtney’s I think. The management there know me. And the staff are well paid to be discreet about their diners.” He waves me at the wardrobe. “Pick out your clothes. I’m going for a shower.”

I know of Courtney’s. It is well known as a hang-out for celebrities from rock stars to politicians, actors to newspaper tycoons; public faces who value a bit of privacy from time to time. It also has a reputation for being stupendously expensive.

My Master leaves me, like a kid in a sweetie shop, investigating the wardrobe, working my way through beautiful fabrics, expensive designer labels and gorgeous ‘fuck me’ dresses.

All the clothes are beautiful, stylish and well chosen, with a good mix of themes and styles, but as I work my way through them, it dawns on me what the common themes are. Firstly, they are all just my size - how does he do that? And secondly, every one of them is, in some way, ‘easy access’. The lovely garments might be ‘demure’ on the surface, but every one of them has some form of flap, wrap, slit, lace or button, that would allow an experienced hand an easy way in.

I pick out a cocktail dress with a tightly fitted bodice, but loose, flaring skirt. The filmy fabric swirls as I lift it up to admire, then I lay it carefully on the bed before going to shower myself.

Showered, made up and dressed, I go through to the lounge, to find Richa…… my Master, sitting; dressed and well groomed, looking through the file I brought. He glances up, and then looks up again as he registers that I am dressed. He tilts his head admiringly. “Ready?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I think so too. You look beautiful Elizabeth, but of course, you always do. Shall we go?” He stands, puts the file on the table and offers me his arm.

___________

I walk into the restaurant on the arm of Richard Haswell. It is beautiful; all chandeliers and polished woodwork, with a pianist playing softly in the background. The meal is to die for, perfectly cooked and exquisitely served.

My Master seems distracted. After seeing the clothes in the wardrobe, I had thought that perhaps he would want to make some kind of play in the car on the way here. Instead, whilst he slipped his hand inside the skirt, resting it inside my thigh, he did not speak, simply looking out through the window until, pulling up outside the restaurant, Ross, the driver, asks “You want me to wait, Mr Haswell?”

“Yes please Ross. I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave.”

Sitting at the table, wonderful food being served, wine, a low murmur of conversation around us, he is silent. I had expected that, since he has brought me out to dinner, he might want to talk.

I wonder if I have upset him somehow.

“Mr Haswell. Is something wrong. Have I…. Have I done something wrong?”

He almost jerks back to reality, and smiles at me. “No, not at all Elizabeth. I just have a lot to think about right now. I’m sorry. It’s not very gracious of me to sit in silence. And also, here….” he takes my hand “…. Here, in this place, in this setting, it is ‘Richard.’”

Relief washes over me. “I was beginning to worry that I had upset you, Richard.”

He leans close and kisses me on the forehead, cupping my face in his hands. “No. I was simply distracted. Do enjoy your meal. Is your fish good?”

“Yes, very.” In fact, the fish is divine. Tender white flakes in a buttery sauce, piquant with capers and lemon, and served with tiny, one bite sized vegetables, crisp and fresh, that taste as though they were still on the plant five minutes ago. The restaurant deserves its reputation, and is a world away from the take away pizza I was living on, only a short time ago.

Later, Ross drives the car to my apartment to drop me off. Richard almost growls when he sees where we are.

“I don’t like you living here, Elizabeth. It’s not safe. I can understand why you lived here…. in your previous life…. You couldn’t afford any better then, but it’s different now. Why haven’t you moved somewhere else?”

“Oh I will. I have somewhere picked out in fact. But I’m waiting for my first pay check to come through. Then, trust me…” I laugh… “I’ll be out of here. They won’t see me for dust.”

“Of course, yes. That’s good. Goodnight, Elizabeth.” And he kisses me as I step out of the car.

As I turn the key in the lock, I look back. The car is still there, Ross and Richard both looking at me. “Waiting for something?” I call.

Ross replies. “Always do, Beth.” He tosses his head, pointing to the rear seats. “He’s made it clear that if I don’t stay long enough to see you in, he’ll have my ass.”

I chuckle. It’s nice to know that someone will take the trouble to watch out for me. “That’s great. Goodnight Ross. Goodnight Richard.”

_____________________

In my dingy apartment, my good mood evaporates into a feeling of let-down. Why? I’ve had a wonderful evening, been wined and dined, had sex that leaves me wanting to scrape the top of my head off the ceiling. Why do I suddenly feel blue? The food, so delicious, sits heavy inside me.

In my bed, I admit to myself that I’m lonely for him. I would like to be curled up in his bed, his arms around me as I drift off to sleep.

But that is not the deal I have. This is not a ‘relationship’. I am not his girlfriend, or even a fuck-buddy. I am an employee, simply one with some very good terms written into the agreement we made. I will have all the good things of life, including the training and education I need to be, one day, rich and independent in my own right. For that, I ‘service’ my Master, billionaire Richard Haswell.

I cannot complain. It is the chance of a lifetime. Nonetheless, I could wish for more.

I cannot sleep, finding myself thinking of my Master; his face as he commands me, deep, deep blue eyes gazing at my breasts, my sex. The obvious pleasure he takes in bringing me to crashing orgasm. His beautiful body, lean and tanned in those linen shirts and tight black jeans that he prefers to wear.

He fucks me to spectacular orgasm every time, but I am beginning to wish that he might, once, make love to me.

Love. The forbidden word. It is not in the contract.

Oh God. Don’t let me fall in love with him.

Almost instinctively, my hands drift south, and I sigh deeply as I open my legs; raising my knees and parting my thighs to allow my fingers entry.

Simply opening myself is so erotic. I think of his eyes on me, watching closely as he commands me to spread myself open, stretch my pussy lips open to his inspection, to pleasure myself, to bring myself to climax, to fuck myself so that he can watch and enjoy, and to take me when he wishes, his fingers probing my juicy core, or his tongue licking long, slow strokes, up through my glistening folds, delving deep, or lightly, barely brushing skin.

I think of his eyes, dark in the glimmering candlelight, intense with desire, brilliant in lust, looking at me, as he instructs me in his wishes. I am to have no secrets. He must see it all.

And I respond and obey, my arousal rising sweet and hot from within, under the power he has over me.

My fingers slide through my red curls, just re-growing after my Master shaved me, that first day he discovered me illicitly using his shower. I chuckle as I remember my reaction - hands tied above my head to his shower fitting, naked to his eyes, as he produced the razor and foam. He shaved me, then tongued me to quivering orgasm before bending me over the basin and fucking me, ball deep inside me, to his own climax.

He hasn’t done anything like that since then and, fingers slipping past to my nub, I wonder if he would like me to wax? Does he want my pussy smooth and naked for him? So that he can see my slit, there for him, glistening with moisture as juices trickle down my thighs

Or does he prefer it now, that sleek red hairs that are peeping through? Or perhaps he wants them to grow so that he can shave me again? My pussy juices flowing, at the thought of his mouth around me, sucking me. A flash of heat stabs up though my sex, and I feel my flow starting again, my slit swelling and my breath quickening.

I work my clit, rubbing and circling, slipping back the hood to reach the sensitive bud within. As I flick it, I think of his tongue encircling, probing with the tip, exploring my pink folds, lapping slowly at my pussy juice, tasting me as he slides fingers inside me and probes me within.

My heart begins to pound, and I wish that I had one of the vibes he uses on me so expertly. I want to feel something inside me so, one hand still plying my swelling nub, the other slides inside, one finger, two, then three. I want him inside me, but this will have to do.

I reach in and up, stretching fingers for my g-spot, massaging hard, and for a moment or so, release my clit to have a free hand to push down hard, flat handed on my belly muscles, increasing the internal pressure on my pussy walls. I think of my Master, bending me forward, taking me from behind, his cock testing and teasing my slit, gently seeking inside me, an inch only, against my entrance, making me twitch and moan and shudder, before ramming into me, hard, grabbing me by the hair and pulling my head backwards, forcing me to arch my back and turning my moans into screams. Rubbing hard at my inner wall, electric arousal sparks flames in my head. I can feel my thighs wet and hot, and the bed damp under me.

Again, I am moaning now, trying to be quiet so as not to be heard through the thin walls to the next apartment. My pulse is racing and I am sweltering under the sheets.

I throw off the covers, and lie, naked and writhing, sleek with sweat, as I plunge my hand deep into my cunt. Again and again, I try to bring my Master within me, taking me with his cock, filling me hard until I can see nothing but him, feel nothing but him. I want him in my pussy. I want him in my mouth. I want to feel him judder and spasm as he cums, spurting his load into me and on me. I want him to orgasm over me, over my face and breasts and belly, into my aching pussy, into my mouth, letting me milk him, lick his cream from my lips and face.

Harder and harder I work myself, plunging my fingers in, as deep as they will go, desperate for a substitute for my Master’s body inside me. My hand is slick from fucking my own saturated pussy, my lips hot and swollen, pulsating with need and the desire for release.

It won’t come. Orgasm just won’t arise within me. I need more. Scanning my room, dimly lit from the streetlights, there is a bottle of baby oil. It will do.

Grabbing the bottle, I slide it inside me. My aching cunt welcomes it, taking it in as I first test for fit, and then plunge deep inside, fucking myself hard, again and again. The bottle is slippery with oil, slick with my juices, but I ram it home, over and over. At some level, I am conscious that the headboard of the bed is clattering against the wall, but I don’t care.

Now my orgasm builds, tension mounting, blood pounding in my ears, my body arched rigid, thighs shuddering and trembling in my search for climax.

With an unquenchable heat, orgasm takes me. My pussy sends pulsating spasms through my body. My thighs and stomach throb and clench, in a rhythm that takes me completely, and I cry out, still working the bottle inside myself, making the ecstasy last as long as I can, drawing out the moment when my Master will leave me.

Pumping away at myself, I hold onto the crescendo as long as I can, before it becomes unbearable and, with a gasp, I whip the bottle out of my still spasming cunt, and lie, gasping and panting on the mattress.

As the climax passes and my breathing slows, there is banging on the wall. “Keep that fucking noise down!”

To Hell with the neighbours. I’ll be out of here soon.

The Story Continues in “The Master’s Fantasies

The Master’s Fantasies

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Part Five of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Author: Simone Leigh

Part Five

The Master’s Fantasies

I do not see my Master for some days; he is ‘out of town’. When he reappears at the office, on the occasions that I see him, he seems distracted and says little to me. I wonder if I have done something wrong, or worse, if he is growing tired of me. Then Francis, his PA buzzes me. “Beth. Can you come up please. He wants to see you.”

“I’ll be five minutes.”

As I step out of the lift, Francis is sitting behind her desk outside the office, a thoughtful expression on her face. There are angry voices coming from behind the door to Richard’s office. Francis meets my eyes with raised eyebrows.

“Hi Beth. I’d take a seat if I were you. I don’t know how long this is going to be.”

The shouting continues. After a couple more minutes, and with one voice becoming ever louder and more angry, Francis picks up the phone. “Frank? Yes? Can you send Security up to the fifth floor please. Yes, that’s right, now please.”

As she puts the phone down, the office door bangs open, and Mack Kane stamps out, red faced and furious. Slamming the door closed, as he sees me, he takes a step towards me, murder in his eyes.

“Don’t think I don’t know it wasn’t you, you little bitch…”

I have no idea what he is talking about, and involuntarily I sit back in my chair as Mack steps closer to me, one hand raised.

At that moment, the lift doors swish open and out step two, blue uniformed, security guards. Mack sees them and backs off. At the same moment, Richard comes out of his office, looking stern but calm, “Francis, can you call Security please…. Ah, already here, I see. Thank you, Francis. Ben, Alan, can you please accompany Mr Kane to the exit. He will not be needing his security badge any more. And he is not to be re-admitted without my express permission.”

He turns to Francis. “Francis, can you please clear Mr Kane’s desk, and forward any personal effects to his home address.”

Mack is almost purple with fury and turns to me, jabbing a finger in my direction, a clear threat in his eyes. “You bitch. You haven’t heard the last of this…”

I am completely baffled. “I’m sorry but I don’t unders….”

Richard interrupts. “Are you threatening a member of staff, Mr Kane? Should we call the Police?”

Mack falls silent, but his face is still mottled red with fury. Stiffly, he turns and heads for the lift, accompanied by the security guards. As the doors swish closed behind them, Richard turns to Francis. “Make sure he’s out of the building, and that all the reception staff have clear instructions that he’s not to be permitted back in. Then, get onto IT, and get his security codes and passwords changed, right now.”

Francis nods. “Yes, Mr Haswell.”

He takes a deep breath, and stares up at the ceiling for a moment. Then “Francis, a pot of coffee please. Elizabeth, in here if you would. You deserve an explanation.”

I follow him into the office, and he waves me to the settee.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry. This wasn’t your fault. When you brought me that file of ‘inconsistencies’ to me that you said you didn’t understand, you were quite correct. Those ‘inconsistencies’ were not your misunderstandings of the procurement system. As I read through, and then, when I investigated more deeply, it was quickly clear that what appeared to you to be the case, in fact, was the case. Someone was, in effect, having the same goods and services charged for twice and sometimes, more than twice. It would have been picked up at some point with a physical stock-take on goods, but that could have been months away and in the meantime, you have saved the company a great deal of money.”

Francis comes in with the coffee, deposits the tray and leaves again. Richard pours two coffees, and I sip at mine, a bit lost for words.

He leans forwards and takes my hand. “Elizabeth, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your quick wits and your eye for detail. A lot of people would have, if they had spotted the problem at all, passed over the mystery and moved on. You struggled with it and came to me with your dilemma.” He laughs. “It goes without saying that if you encounter any more such ‘inconsistencies’, I want you to come straight to me with them again.”

I ponder the implications. “What will happen to him? Will you call the Police?”

Richard shrugs. “I don’t think so. It would be hard to prove that it was actually Mack. When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. However, I caught him out, unexpectedly, today. No doubt if the Police came in, he would have his answers ready, and in the meantime the company’s shares would be falling. No, he’s out, and he won’t be coming back. And he’ll not find it easy to get another job. You on the other hand….”

“What made him think it was me?”

“I didn’t tell him that it was you, Elizabeth, but he knew which files you’d been looking at, and which projects you’d focused on. It didn’t take him long to work it out when I started asking him specific questions….”

I am really worried now. “He looked really mad. I thought he was going to hit me, but then the security guards arrived.”

Richard pauses. “Is that right? Just like him to blame someone else for his situation.” He rubs his chin. “Mmm… Just in case, I think we’ll get you out of that old apartment of yours, now. Get you to a new address. Would you mind that?”

“Well, no, but I was going to move at the end of the month, when I could make the deposit for the rent.”

“I want you out of there before then. Where is the new apartment you have in mind?”

“It’s in the Crown Towers development, you know, one of those new ones they’ve just built.”

He smiles. “Yes, I know them. C’mon, let’s go see.” He buzzes the intercom. “Francis, can you call a car. We’re going to be out for a couple of hours.”

_______________

In the privacy of the back of the car, I say “I’d thought I had done something to upset you.”

My Master looks startled. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you dropped me off at my old flat last week and then I didn’t see you again, or barely. And when I did see you, you didn’t speak. I….”

I falter. Am I safe to say this?

“I…. missed you.”

“I’m sorry about that, Elizabeth. I have to say that I also missed our, er…. adventures together.” He grins and flashes his eyebrows at me. “Don’t worry. I won’t neglect you. I don’t want you wandering off looking for pastures anew.”

“Oh I won’t do that. We have a deal don’t we? Anyway, I um…. I sorted myself out.” Then I blush crimson, realising what I have just blurted out.

A rainbow of expressions crosses my Master’s face; surprise, shock and then, a sunrise of sensual pleasure. He tilts his head, and then, taking my hand, presses it against his groin, moving my hand, in his, over him, showing me what was is required of me. Through the fabric of his trousers, I can feel his cock stirring into life.

He leans closer into me, his voice low and breathy by my ear. “So, you missed me, and you fucked yourself instead?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Yes what?” He presses my hand against his growing erection.

“Yes Master. I fucked myself, thinking about you.”

“And?”

“I wanted you there, inside me. But you weren’t there, so instead, I lay naked on the bed, and got myself off.”

“How? What did you do Elizabeth? Tell me, in detail. I want to know.”

I am unused to this, and am not quite sure what to say, so I hesitate.

“Elizabeth. I have given you an instruction. I want you to tell me, detail by detail, how you fucked yourself.”

“I spread my legs, and I played with my clit.” As I say this, my Master’s cock jumps under my hand. I feel it straining for escape. As well as I can through his trousers, I work him with my fingers.

A voice comes over the car intercom from Ross, the driver. “Sorry Mr Haswell, we’re stuck in a traffic jam. Might take a bit longer to get there.”

I see my Master take a breath for voice control. He succeeds and sounding very casual, replies “That’s fine, Ross. There’s no hurry.” Then he presses my hand again, hard down.

Seeking permission in his eyes, I unzip, and release, my Master’s now throbbing erection. “I’d have you hard down on that, sucking me off.” he says. “But I want to hear what you have to say.”

“I played with my clit.” I repeat. “I rubbed myself, and tweaked and flicked. And all the time I was thinking of you, with your mouth around me, lapping at me and making me wet.” With the tips of my fingers, I work the head of his penis, licking my fingers to make it as good as I can for him.

“I made myself really wet. I was ready for you, and I wanted you. I wanted you to lick me out and then fuck me brainless.” I feel that my fingers are not slippery enough. My Master’s cock deserves better than this, so for a moment I bend over, taking him in my mouth, licking and moistening the tender skin, at the same time, continuing to slide my fingers up and down his length. My own panties are moistening.

“I used my hand, and finger fucked myself.” I continue, but you weren’t there. “I was ready to be fucked properly. I wanted to feel you all the way inside me, ball deep, but you weren’t there. I would have used a vibe, but I didn’t have one, so I had to find something else instead.”

My Master is now leaking down my hand. As I hand fuck him, it is slippery and delicious, and I am becoming uncomfortable in my now soaking panties.

“What did you use? What did you bring yourself off with?”

“I found a bottle. It wasn’t right, but it was good enough. I slid it inside myself, and then I fucked my cunt, hard. I wanted you to fuck me, but instead I used a bottle to fuck myself….”

Ross’s voice comes over the intercom again. “We’re clear Mr Haswell. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

I see Richard’s eyes roll skywards. “Fuck!” he mutters.

I lean over him and lick him clean and dry, enjoying the taste of him and letting him see me lick my own lips clean. With a little difficulty, I tuck him away, and he pulls his jacket closed to cover his still overly obvious bulge.

_______________

As we enter the lobby of the apartment block, the concierge does not at first even meet my eye. “Yes?” he says. “What is it?” He is eating a sandwich, and casually brushes egg crumbs from his face and onto his shirt.

I start to speak. “Hello. My name is Elizabeth Kimberley….”

Richard interrupts. “Is that how a member of my staff meets and greets members of the public?”

The concierge looks sharply up at him, then blenches. “Oh! Mr Haswell.” He stands up hastily, struggling slightly to push his chair back as he does so. Then he takes on an obsequious smile. “Sorry, Mr Haswell. I didn’t know we were expecting you.”

Richard leans forward over the desk, eyeballing the man. “You shouldn’t need to be expecting the Boss to show up, to show common courtesy to a visitor to the building. That is your job. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Get me the keys for 47A.”

“Yes Sir.” The concierge disappears into a back room for a moment, then reappears, jingling keys. “There you are, Sir.”

“Thank you.” Says Richard. “And get a clean shirt on if you expect to be still working here next week.”

We take the lift to the fourth floor. “I didn’t know you owned this building too.” I say.

He smiles and shrugs. “Handy, isn’t it? And no-one will disturb us.” His smile turns to a wicked grin.

On the fourth floor, he unlocks the door and gestures me in. As soon as the door is closed behind us, my Master grabs me by the arm and pushes me back against a wall. “Now Madam, you were explaining to me how you handle yourself alone.” One hand grabs me by the wrists, gathering them, raising my arms above my head, pinning me to the wall. The other hand heads south, and, non-too gently, pulls up the edge of my skirt, questing up my thighs, past my panties, between my legs. There is nothing restrained about his actions. My Master is ready now. His finger reaches in and up, straight inside me. I hear his grunt of satisfaction to find me already dripping for him.

His face close to mine; “Now, if you please, continue with your tale.”

“I screwed myself with a bottle, hard.”

His fingers plunge into me and I yelp. “Like this?”

“Yes, oh God, yes.”

He stabs into me again, spreading his fingers as he goes, thumb outside, pressed on my clit and I start to whimper in arousal. “You like that?”

I am breathless and gasping. “Yes…. Yes.” His thumb is rubbing my clit and I need to cum.

“You want more?”

“Yes. Please yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes Master, please fuck me. Please let me cum.”

He leans even closer, whispering into my ear. “I’ll forgive you this time, because you didn’t know. But in future, you are only allowed to fuck yourself if you have asked my permission first. And afterwards, I expect a report, in detail, of what you did to yourself that is supposed to be a substitute for my fucking you properly. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Master, I think so.” His fingers freeze. I am on the edge of orgasm, brinking the precipice and shaking with anticipation. I need to cum.

“The answer is just ‘Yes, Master’.”

“Yes, Master. Please, Master. Please let me cum.”

“That’s better.” And, hand still inside me, fingers working my g-spot, he drops to his knees, splays my pussy lips with the other hand and wraps his tongue around my clit, flicking and tasting me.

Instantly I orgasm, pleasure pulsing electrically through me as I moan ecstatically, gushing hot over my Master’s fingers. “Spread your ankles.” he commands and through a euphoric haze, I obey, trembling uncontrollably as my Master licks my thighs, clit and pussy clean. My hips bucking, I want to give at the knees, let my weight slide to the floor, but he still has several fingers inside me. I can take no more. “Oh God! Stop, please stop. Please stop.”

My Master sits back on his haunches, looking pleased with himself. “If that’s the result of leaving you for a few days, perhaps I’ll keep you waiting more often.” he comments, then stands and holds out a hand for me. “And if I may suggest, in future, keep some fresh underwear in your bag. I find that I want to make you drip.” Speechlessly, I nod.

“And now, to business. Shall we take a look at this apartment of yours?”

The apartment is one bedroomed, with a nice open-plan lounge-kitchen, a tidy little bathroom and a lovely view over the park. The area is good and the apartment is brand new. Everything sparkles, unlike my old, dismal flat with its peeling paint and smell of damp. I am so pleased to think that I will soon be living here.

Richard looks around quickly, and seems unimpressed. “It’s very small.” he comments.

“Yes, it is, but it’s big enough for just me. And the area is so much nicer than my old place.”

“What if you want friends to stay? Or your parents perhaps? And where can you work? There’s no real place for a desk, or bookshelves, unless you have them in your lounge.”

“It’s fine. You can’t have everything at once, and I can afford this now, which I certainly couldn’t before.”

Richard purses his lips. “Get your stuff from your old place. I’ll send Ross to help you out. There’s no reason for you to be in there any longer and I’d rather not risk you being there, just in case Mack Kane knows where you lived.”

A shudder goes down my spine. Mack had looked mad as Hell at me, but, surely, he wouldn’t be dangerous? Would he?

I nod and agree.

_______________

Ross drops Richard back at the office, then helps me pack my small number of possessions into the car, a few clothes and personal items, my steam-driven laptop, and my books. None of the furniture is mine, and I wouldn’t want it anyway in my lovely new apartment. When we return to the apartment block, Ross staggering slightly under the weight of a cardboard box full of books, the concierge gives me a key. I notice that he is wearing a fresh shirt and is now sitting upright and alert at his desk.

“You’ve given me the wrong one.” I say. “This is for 127A. Mine is 47A.”

“That’s the one Mr Haswell said I was to give you.”

“Oh. Right.” Puzzled, I take the lift to the twelfth floor, Ross following me.

The twelfth floor apartment is amazing. High above the city, the gorgeous park view is below, but now the view opens far, over buildings old and new, across the river and out to the hills beyond. There are three bedrooms, a huge lounge-diner overlooking those stunning vistas in three directions and a bathroom to die for, all polished glass and chrome fittings, and a jacuzzi.

I am torn between a broad grin and embarrassment.

“Where do you want this?” asks Ross, still weighed down under his load.

“Ermm… I’m not sure. Anywhere Ross. Just put it down.” I don’t know quite what to do next. “I can’t stay here. I can’t possibly afford it.”

Ross looks at me with a slightly pitying expression. “You’re working for Mr Haswell?”

“Er, yes…”

“So he pays your wages? He knows how much you earn?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s your landlord, so he sets the rent….”

“Err... Yes...”

“And he told the concierge to give you this key….?”

“Yes.”

“So this is the apartment you’re getting. And you can afford it. Now where do you want the stuff?”

He’s right of course. What else can I say? I look around my new glorious apartment. Where to put things?

“Just put them down anywhere Ross. I need to decide how to lay things out, and it’s not as though there is any furniture yet.

I spend the rest of the day arranging my things as best I can with no furniture. I am just deciding that I should go out to shop for a bed, a table and chairs and some other essentials when the door intercom buzzes. “Yes?”

“Hello Elizabeth. It’s me, Richard.”

He’s here!

“Oh come on up. It’s wonderful in here!”

A couple of minutes later, my Master enters, then drops the latch on the apartment door. “I don’t want to be interrupted right now.” he smiles.

I start to speak. “I want to say thank you…”

He puts a finger to my lips. “You’re welcome. But you can show me your thankfulness in better fashion. Now where….?” He glances around the lounge and then walks to the kitchen counter. “Come here, Elizabeth.”

I stand, obediently before him, as he tilts up my chin to kiss me on the mouth, then gradually pushes me backwards towards the counter.

“Take your skirt and panties off.”

Simply hearing him say the words excites me and I feel that inner warmth rising again. I unzip my skirt, letting it slide down to my feet before stepping out of it and kicking it to one side then slip down my already noticeably damp panties. Pretty and black though they are, they are not needed. My stockings are enough.

As I stand up straight again, my Master is unbuttoning my blouse, sliding his hands inside and then slipping it off my shoulders to also drop, discarded, to the floor. Then he unclips my bra to leave me in only the black stockings.

For a moment he stands back, just looking at me, then he unclips my hair and pulls it tumbling down over my shoulders, a tumbling red torrent to match the fox at my loins.

“Undress me Elizabeth.”

I slip each shirt button slowly free, and then his cuffs, kissing the taut flat muscles of his abdomen as I do so. His bronzed skin contrasts sharply against the white linen of this shirt before it too falls to the floor. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers I am growing steadily wetter as I feel his already bulging erection. As I slide down his clothes, his hands push me down from the shoulders into a kneeling position, then, gripping my hair, pull my face towards him as his other hand guides his penis into my mouth.

I lick off the twinkling droplet from the tip, loving in the salty-sweet taste of his pre-cum. As my tongue and lips wrap around the head, his shaft twitches under me and I revel in the odd feeling of power it gives me to obey this man, my Master; to do his bidding in everything.

My mouth filled, I glance upwards to see him standing straight, head up and back, hands clasped behind his head. “Pay attention to what you are doing Elizabeth.” He says, and compliantly, I suck and lick his cock, feeling it pulse as I trail the tip of my tongue around the rim of the head, first flicking quickly, then making long sweeping strokes of my tongue, from the base of his shaft, full length to the crown, savouring his trickling juices as his lust rises.

I hear him take a gasp above me. “You’re so good at that Elizabeth, but in a minute you are going to stand, and I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

At his words I flood and gasp, feeling wet heat dribble down inside my thighs. He chuckles as he hears me. “You like that idea then?” and suddenly he bends, grasps me by the waist and lifts me, depositing my naked ass on the kitchen counter. “Spread ‘em.” he says, forcing my knees apart as he does so, and making me lean backwards to support myself. “Lie down.” he says, pushing me, flat handed, back down, onto the marble surface, then pulling me forward at the hips until his cock kisses into my pussy.

He thrusts for a moment, then stops. “Not wet enough yet, I think.”

I am not sure what he means by this, as it seems to me that I am already swollen and slippery for him, but he drops down and plants his mouth squarely over my pussy, thrusting in with his tongue, twisting and probing, drinking my juices. Involuntarily I heave and gulp, arching my back to raise my hips to him, locking my ankles behind his head to open myself fully to my Master.

“Lie still.” He says. “I have not given you permission to move.”

I try to obey, but as his lips purse over my clit, I cannot help myself, groaning and writhing at the exquisite fire stabbing up through my core. My Master’s teeth nibble gently at my bud, then his tongue circles it, flicking and manipulating it until my pussy juices gush over his face. He licks deep, over my pussy lips, trailing through my cunt and lingering deliciously as he drinks from me.

“Wet enough now I think.” And he rises to his feet.

Standing, my Master’s erection is huge, he probes with the tip at my entrance, once, twice, thrice as my pussy twitches and jumps in response, then thrusts headlong, deep inside me, hard, stopping only as he strikes my inner walls. I scream in response, my cunt throbbing to his rhythm as I try to tighten pussy and belly muscles around him. I can barely think as he plunges inside me, again and again, but I know that I want him there, and that I want him to take the greatest pleasure in me.

He pounds away inside me; no gentleness, demanding response. Lying flat-backed on the stone surface there is little I can do beyond screaming, it rises, unbidden from my depths; a deep, primal response to the earthquake of the flesh I am experiencing at my Master’s bidding. My hips try to gyrate in time to his thrusting, but with no give to the stone surface I cannot really move at all, only quiver below him as he plunges inside me, again and again, harder and harder.

I feel the stone slab slick under me, and I begin to slide over the liquid surface. My Master seizes me at the hips, holding me steady as he continues his pounding inside me, ball deep, and then out completely, to his full length, in and then out again. Breathing is difficult as I pant uncontrollably between screams, my heart pounding and my pulse racing.

I feel the rise of orgasm within me, the tension building and my belly muscles clenching as it builds. Convulsed in a paroxysm of ecstatic joy, I try to lean up, to embrace the sensation, but my Master’s hand, flat between my breasts, pushes me down again on my back, holding me pinned as climax takes me.

I am unconscious of anything but the release, as my pulsating cunt sends violent waves of pleasure through my stomach and thighs. I do not know if I scream, or gasp, or cry; only that I lie helplessly writhing, speared by my Master, as he gazes down on me, cumming at his command.

Sated and exhausted, I lie, my panting subsiding, as my Master locks eyes with me. “Don’t move.” he says. “You haven’t finished.”

He draws level with my face, and, once again seizing hold of my hair, pulls up my face. “Open wide.”

I open my mouth and he pushes inside. “Finish me off.” he says. “I want to see you swallowing my cum.”

“May I use my hands as well?”

“Yes, you can massage my balls while you lick me clean, then suck me off.”

One handedly, I massage his balls, tight and crinkled. With the other I support his huge erect penis as I lick away my own juices and his.

With one hand kneading his balls and the base of his erection, caressing and stroking, fondling and rubbing, I can feel the growing throb and cadence of his rising climax. His own hips start to quiver, and then, as I feel he is going to spurt into my mouth, I slide the tip of my tongue into the slit of his penis, tickling, probing and stimulating at this, his most sensitive moment.

In response, he exhales with a gasp, leaning forward and pulling me, by the hair, deeper in. He spurts into my mouth in a creamy cascade, then, pulling my mouth free of him, finishes his climax over my face, his stream surging over my eyes and lips, dripping down into my hair. As he shoots his cum over me, I lick and suck where I can, taking what he gives, as he rubs his cock and balls and cum over my face.

Finally, with a heave, he pulls free of me, and stands breathing deeply, arms akimbo.

After a moment he looks up again. “Elizabeth. You are good. You are so good.” And he leans over, kissing me deeply on the mouth and then the breasts.

“Come on, let me help you down.” And he picks me up from the marble, placing me carefully on my own two feet.

I wobble a little, a bit unsteady after the internal pounding he just gave my, still swollen, pussy and clit.

“A shower I think.” he says. “Let’s check out your new bathroom.”

The shower stall is roomy enough for two, and hot water cascading over us both, my Master soaps me down, then sponges me down. He gives special attention to my breasts and between my legs, sucking my nipples as he reaches between my thighs. “Don’t worry.” he comments. “I don’t expect you to perform again quite this soon. But I enjoy the feel of your body.”

Afterwards, we sit on the carpet in my still unfurnished apartment, looking out over the City and the river.

“How much furniture do you have?” he asks.

“None really. It all belonged to the landlord in my old flat. It’s not a problem. I’ll go and get some over the next few days.” Then I try to collect my thoughts. “Thank you. The other flat was nice, but this is gorgeous.”

“Yes, the other was alright, but this one is better. You have the space for guests and for an office or study here…. on which subject; we have plenty of spare furniture in the basement back at the office, desks, bookshelves that kind of thing. Pick out what you want and I’ll get it sent over for you. It will do for you until you have had chance to choose what you want and make the place your own.”

I don’t know what to say, so I settle for “Thank you.”

He smiles and kisses the top of my head. “You’re welcome Elizabeth. But we made a deal. You are keeping your end of it and I am keeping mine.”

Inside my heart sinks. Everything he says is true, but I don’t want it to be a contract. I am falling in love with my Master.

The Story Continues in “The Master’s Obsession”

The Master’s Obsession

An Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic Romance

Part Six of the

‘Bought by the Billionaire’ Series

Author: Simone Leigh

Part Six

The Master’s Obsession

I am just putting the finishing touches to the bedroom in my beautiful new apartment when the door buzzes. “Hello Elizabeth. It’s Richard.”

With a thrill, I rush to the intercom.” Hi! Come straight up. The door’s open.”

When my Master arrives, he is carrying red roses and a briefcase. I recall that, the very first time I saw him, he was carrying this same briefcase, and then also, had a bunch of red roses. He had a date, but the date stood him up.

I wonder what he has in the case. The last time, it was a spreader bar and a vibrating egg, both of which he tried out on me, giving me one of the most electrifying experiences of my life. I am becoming excited in anticipation. What is he planning?

He hands me the roses with a smile. “I hope you like them?”

“Oh yes, Master, they're lovely. I’ll put them in water.”

He flops down onto the settee. “So Elizabeth, we're celebrating your new home.” he says, his gorgeous smile crinkling around his eyes

I am so stirred by all this, my new life, my new apartment, and my Master, who I admit to myself, I am falling in love with.

“How would you like to celebrate?” he asks.

My eyes slide across to the briefcase. 'I thought you might already have ideas on that, Master.'

He laughs. “Oh yes, I do, lots of ideas, always. But this is your celebration Elizabeth. And I want to thank you for what you have done, and are doing, for me. Tonight, you can tell me what you would like.”

'I'd like....' My voice trails away. I am not sure if I can ask this.

He tilts his head in that now familiar gesture. “Yes?”

'I'd like......' I cannot speak, a lump in my throat, and tears beginning to well up inside me.

He stands, concern on his face, taking me by the shoulders and holding me, tight to him. “Elizabeth. What's the matter? I want you to be happy. I thought you were happy. How have I upset you?”

'Oh I am happy. I am. But....'

He holds me away now, by the shoulders, squaring up to my face and holding my gaze. “Elizabeth, you have to tell me what's wrong. How can I make things right for you, if I don't understand your problem?”

“I want you to make love to me.” I blurt out, then fall silent, wondering if I have just ruined everything. My Master and I have a contract; a no-strings contract.

My Master looks startled, then laughs. “I thought you enjoyed our little games Elizabeth? Was I wrong?”

“Oh no, you’re not wrong at all. I love our 'games' It's just that....”

My Master falls silent and looks around the room, then moves to stand by the window, staring out, his back to me.

“Are you falling in love with me Elizabeth?”

I hold silent for a moment, then take my courage in my hands. “Yes, I am……..” I hang my head. “Are you angry with me?”

He almost whirls around, grabbing me again by the shoulders. “How could I be angry that one of the most beautiful woman I have ever known, the most intelligent, and certainly the sexiest, is falling in love with me?”

Suddenly, he crushes his mouth on to mine, almost bruising my lips in his fervour, crushing me in his embrace. I respond hungrily, leaning into the kiss, exploding inside as he scoops me up, carries me through to the bedroom and dumps me, unceremoniously, on the bed.

“I'll show you how a man makes love to a fucking star like you Elizabeth.”

There is a sparkle in his eyes, and his smile is like sunshine, as he sits beside me, enfolding me in his arms, his kiss deepening by the moment. I am totally unprepared by the sheer scale of my physical response to this. I am afire. In my head, skies are blue, the sun is bright and birds are singing.

My Master sucking and nibbling at my bottom lip, my heart begins to pound as I heat within, a familiar moistness between my legs. He trails kisses down my neck, and then, struggling briefly with the buttons of my blouse, unclips my bra with one hand, cupping a breast with the other to suckle. As he sucks and nips at my puckering nipple, I am working at his shirt. I want his naked skin, and the smell of his maleness over me.

Sitting up, he helps me with the shirt, simply pulling it up over his head before discarding it onto the floor, then shucking off his trousers and shoes. His now naked body, bronzed, lean muscled and lightly haired, smells deliciously musky. I have never been certain if this is his personal scent, or some after shave that he uses, but it is, deliciously, his scent, and right now, it feels like my personal property.

He slides fingers behind my skirt to unzip, and slip it off me. Wearing nothing but white lacy panties, I lie back for him, arching my stomach and hips up to him as he plants kisses between my breasts, down my belly, and beyond.

His fingers slip between my legs, pausing briefly to ply my thighs apart, his fingers stroking the delicate inner skin. I am already wet as his fingers part my labia, exploring my swelling nub, sliding back the hood to reveal the sensitive heart within.

He is gentle and tender, working to arouse, and succeeding, and I curve and strain to meet him, my ardour becoming hard to control.

“Please Master. I want you inside me.”

'Easily done.” he says, smiling, repositioning himself.

I watch his magnificent erection, quivering slightly against the flat of his abdomen. Lowering himself onto me, he pauses momentarily, allowing me to stroke his length and to kiss away the trembling droplet at the tip. Licking his salt-sweet honey from my lips, I draw him towards me as he lies full length atop me, the tip of his cock brushing my pussy. He holds there, not entering, but teasing and arousing, knowing well that I want him to plunge inside me. Pressing lightly in, he then withdraws, instead, kissing me, open mouthed, one hand kneading a breast and tweaking the nipple.

“Oh God! Master. Please get inside me. I want you inside me.”

He whispers into my ear. “All in good time. Women don't always cum from penetration only. I want to make sure that you do.” And he continues his plying and rolling of, first one nipple, then the other.

I am wild with desire. Every time his cock leans in towards me, I rock my hips towards him, trying to swallow him into my depths, but always he withdraws, leaving me shaking with anticipation. I am yearning to have him fill me, aching to have his length fill my pussy. My juices are flowing freely and the sheets are damp below me. Sweat glistens on my chest, my skin slick and shiny in the half light.

Finally, when I think I might actually pass out, if he makes me wait any longer, he first probes my pussy, then smoothly sheaths himself inside me. I gasp and cry out, my head flinging back, and then forward, eyes closing instinctively. I barely know what to do with myself at the ecstasy within.

In he slides and out, in and out. Not hard, nor gentle, but regular and even, and smooth as silk, with a rhythm like a heartbeat. My own heartbeat is wild, my pulse banging wildly at my temples, the gliding thrust of my Master filling my pussy making me moan and pant.

Opening my eyes, my Master is gazing down, watching my face as he works me. His eyes are deep, intense. I could drown in them. His teeth lightly gritted, I see a sheen of perspiration as he draws me to my climax.

It begins, rising from my core, rippling out through the muscles of my belly and thighs. As I convulse inside, my Master responds by thrusting hard, in his heartbeat rhythm, my cunt squeezing his cock, as I erupt into orgasm.

Through my physical rapture, I am conscious of arms encircling me as I Cum, kisses on my neck and breasts. Gliding down once more from the heights, I feel warm breath by my face and fingers running through my hair.

My Master does not cease his thrusting. Kissing me briefly on the lips, he raises himself over me as he thrusts, looking down on me as he builds to his own climax. And now, I stroke his face, reaching up to caress his beautiful features as I move with his rhythm, trying to gift him what he just gifted me. With my pussy, I relax as he glides in, squeeze as he pulls out, trying to make it good for him. His sweat drips onto my breasts, trickling over my hot damp skin, anointing me with his perfume.

With a gasp, his eyes shut tight and he shudders into orgasm, groaning as his hips buck, his cock pressing deep inside me. His chest heaving, he collapses onto me and simply lies there, as I comb his damp hair with my fingers, kissing the side of his face.

For a long minute we lie there, unmoving, my mind full of glory. My Master has not said that he loves me, but he is not angry with me. Perhaps I can yet hope for more than a contract…

“Master?”

He pulls himself up onto an elbow, once more looking down on me. His smile is sweet honey to me. “Yes Elizabeth?”

“What just happened?”

“What happened?” he laughs. “What happened is that I, as requested by a beautiful girl who says she is falling in love with me, made love to her. That is what you wanted isn’t it?”

Dumbly I nod. His face turns serious. He takes my chin in his hand, looking me straight in the face. “Elizabeth, don’t misunderstand. I can’t claim that I love you. I am very fond of you and I really, really lust for you. I hope that is enough for you, for now at least?”

Again. I nod.

Yes, it is enough for me…

For now.

“Good!” He rises and stretches. “And now I think, let’s have that celebration for your new home. Dinner out I think. Yes?”

“Mmm. Yes. Lovely.”

_____________

The following day, walking home from the office, I decide to do a little window shopping. I still need a few things to furnish my apartment, and am staring through the shop window of one of the plusher furniture stores when, in the reflection, I see behind me a figure I recognise; Mack Kane, ex-head of Procurement. He is glaring at me from across the street. I always found him unappealing, something about him made my skin crawl, but now he looks positively toxic.

As I spin to face him, he turns his back and walks quickly from view around a corner. A shudder runs through me. Is it a co-incidence? Or am I being followed by this man who lost his highly paid job as a result of my discovery of his theft from the company?

Perhaps my imagination is running riot, but I decide to go inside the store and lose myself in the crowds. I exit a few minutes later through a different door. If Mack is following me, I do not want him to know where I live. Should I mention this to Richard?

No, I decide, not without being a bit surer of what is happening. For now, I will simply watch. If Mack is following me, I will soon find out.

Over the next few days, I do not see him again and I come to the conclusion that I have an overly-vivid imagination. No doubt he just happened to be in the street. Putting it from my mind, I turn to my work, my training and my wonderful Master.

Francis buzzes me. “Hi Beth. Can you come up please. Mr Haswell would like a word.”

Up on the fifth floor, my Master makes me welcome in his office.

“Hello Elizabeth. I just wanted a quick chat. Coffee?”

“Thanks yes. I’d love a coffee.”

He rings through a request to Francis then returns his attention to me. “I have a meeting tomorrow. A very important meeting with potential clients who, if we can get the deal, will be worth a great deal of money to the company.”

“Okay.” I nod attentively.

What has this to do with me?

“I would like you to sit in on the meeting….”

Oh!

“…. You have already proved that you have an eye for detail with your work in the Procurement Section. It may have been an unpleasant little episode, but it saved the company a lot of money. Tomorrow I want you to sit in as Secretary to the meeting, and take the minutes.”

He leans forward. “Elizabeth, I want you to bring in that talent for detail again. Take notes of what is said; proposals, agreements, suggestions, whatever there is. However, I also want you to watch the people. Body-language, expressions. Do they seem comfortable with the discussion? Does anyone look unhappy with the agreement? That sort of thing.

He takes my hand in his. “Are you with me on that? Happy with it?”

I nod. “Yes, it sounds fine to me. What…...?”

I do not get to finish my question. At that moment, we hear raised voices in the outer office; Francis and some other female voice I do not recognise. The office door suddenly slams open, almost bouncing back on its hinges and a woman strides in, with a face like fury. She should be rather attractive, beautiful even; with immaculate make-up, expensive designer clothes and sleek dark hair. However, her furious expression spoils her beauty.

Francis follows her in, gesturing apologetically at my Master.

The stranger says “Richard! This bloody woman tried to tell me that I can’t come in.” Then she stops mid-stride as she registers me, raising one eyebrow.

My Master stands, not looking pleased. “Adele. It is Francis’ job to ensure that I am not disturbed when I am in a meeting.”

Her lip curls. “Yes, I can see what kind of meeting you are having. Who’s this then? Your latest little trollop?”

My Master takes a deep breath, then speaks in measured tones, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “If it were any of your business Adele, I might answer that. But it isn’t. The last time we met, if you recall, you stood me up. At the time, I took it as an informal way of your finally saying ‘Goodbye’. I still do. Now, please leave. Feel free to call me this evening if you think we have something to discuss. Right now, I would like to return to my discussions here.”

She stands frozen for a moment, head back and that arrogant lip curl ugly on her, then turns her gaze to me. “I wouldn’t hope for too much Dear.” she says. “You’re not the first. You won’t be the last.” And she turns and marches out, followed by Francis.

My Master waits a few seconds then follows them out. I hear him speaking. “Francis, check with Reception that’s she’s left the building would you, then cancel her entry codes. I don’t want any repeat of this.”

“I’m sorry Mr Haswell. I tried to stop her bursting in like that but she wouldn’t have it. You know what she’s like…”

“Yes, I remember well just what she is like. Don’t worry about it Francis. It’s not your fault. Just make sure that she can’t simply march in like that again.”

He comes back into the office and sits down next to me again. “My apologies Elizabeth. That wasn’t fair on you. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s alright. It wasn’t your fault. Was she…. Were you….” My tongue ties. How do I ask this?

“Yes, we were…. But not now, or ever again. The last time I saw her was the night you and I met, when you decided to take an impromptu shower in my bathroom if you recall….” He grins and my tension subsides a little.

While it was happening, I did not have time to be upset by Adele’s outburst. It was over too quickly, but now the meaning of her words is beginning to sink in and I am beginning to feel a little sick.

My Master sees this in my face. “Elizabeth, you mustn’t be upset by this. I do not want you upset by this.”

I nod and gulp, but can think of nothing to say.

He grips me by an arm and tilts my face up, forcing me to look him in the eye. “I know that you want more than I am offering, but I will make you no promises I think I cannot keep. For now, you must accept that… But…” His grip on my arm tightens, almost hurting. “…but…. she is part of my past. That night you and I first met, I was trying to take one last shot at making it work with her, God know why.”

He releases me and, standing, sweeps his hair back with both hands, staring at the ceiling. “Anyway, whatever the reason, I tried. You just got a taste of her personality. And she was never really any different, even when I thought there might be something real between us. The reality is that, she is manipulative, scheming, and really, not very pleasant to know. I was simply besotted with her physical beauty. Whereas you Elizabeth…” His smile returns as he looks at me. “…You are as sweet as Spring, and I will do my best to honour every promise I make you, because I know that you will do the same…... Are you alright, Elizabeth?”

Biting my lip. “Yes, I am. Thank you, Master.”

“Good, let’s get back to work, and then later, perhaps we should continue celebrating your new apartment eh?”

“Oh yes Master.” I laugh.

“You can wear that rather attractive green bodice you have. It goes with your hair beautifully.”

“Yes Master.”

_____________

But that evening, on my way home, I become aware of being shadowed again. Trying not to show that I know I am being followed, I pause again by shop windows, trying to spot my shadow in the reflection, but always, he slips out of sight before I spy him. Mack again?

Un-nerved, once more I cut through the crowds to lose myself, before continuing home. I decide that I must tell my Master what is happening.

_____________

The green bodice my Master likes was chosen for him. I try to select clothes I think he will enjoy. Carefully I fit it into place, supporting my large breasts, but with the laces dangling free.

Matching, side-laced panties and black lace stockings are, I think, all else that is needed. Possibly, I will not be wearing them for very long….

My Master strides in to the apartment just as I finish preparing myself for him. Clearly he is in the mood for action as, with no preliminaries, he pushes me, flat backed against the wall. “Stand there. I want to look at you.” Then, moving back for a better view he says “Lift your chin. I want to see your face properly.”

Obediently, I comply, tilting my face a little, to allow my Master to see my profile.

He seems pleased with the effect. “Do you have any champagne here?”

“Yes, Master. Shall I fetch it?”

“Yes. With glasses and ice.”

When I return, he is seated on the settee, sprawling a little, arms raised, hands clasped behind his head. His eyes follow me as I pour the wine and offer him a glass.

“Just put it on the table for now, then come here. Stand in front of me.”

Again, I obey, placing myself before him, his face level with my hips.

“Closer. I want to be able to smell you.”

I move closer, my panties now almost brushing his face. Now he leans forward, one hand caressing my hip and thigh as he inhales deeply. “You smell wonderful Elizabeth, but then you always do.” Then he leans back again onto the settee. “Now, play with yourself.”

I hesitate, a little unsure of what he is asking.

“I said, play with yourself. Finger yourself. Play with your clit. Fuck yourself. I want to watch you arouse yourself. Then you’re good and wet, when I’m ready to fuck you.”

Sliding fingers down the front of my panties, I start to rub myself, fingering through my red curls so that my Master can see the movement through the green silk. His head tilts, and his eyes are dark, pupils wide, as he watches. I allow a few foxy hairs to escape the lace of the panties, rosy against the white of my thighs.

My Master is not exactly smiling, but his teeth show a little, white against his tan as I see his breathing deepen. “I don’t think we need those do we?” he says, and one-handedly, teases apart the side laces of the panties and discarding them.

“Unlace the top of your bodice. I want to see your breasts.”

Slowly I pull the laces of the bodice open, allowing my heavy breasts to swing free from their confinement.

“Now, closer. Then start fucking yourself again.”

I stand close to him, as he leans further back into the settee and says “Closer. I want to see everything.”

I try to move closer, but cannot as my knees chafe against the couch. “Closer.” he says, “Kneel up. Straddle me.”

Kneeling up, my legs parted astride my Master, he supports me with his hands on my hips, steadying me. “Now.” he commands. “Play with yourself. I want to see you dripping.”

This will not be difficult. The act of opening myself, so close to my Master’s face that I can feel the heat of his breath on my loins, is already arousing me, and my pussy is moistly warm.

Slipping fingers between my legs, I to play with my clit, pulling the hood back with one hand and rubbing it with the other. Working at my nub, it grows hard under my fingers. A couple of fingers in my pussy for a moment gives me a little juice to lubricate myself, making my clit more slippery and easier to work.

“Put your hands on my shoulders. Support yourself.” says my Master.

Taking one hand from my hips, he parts my lips, leaning in close to suckle at me. His tongue, lapping at my bud is electric, and I moan, struggling to remain still in my awkward position balanced over him.

“I did not give you permission to move.” he says, withdrawing from me for a moment, then he returns to his work, nibbling at me, chewing lightly at my labia, working my clit with his tongue.

My breath is shuddering now, and my balance is precarious. “Take your hands from my shoulders. Support yourself against the couch back.”

My Master slides down, now directly under me, my pussy open for his inspection. Looking down, he peruses my folds like a gourmet, tasting and licking, flicking at my clit with his tongue, working circles around it, nibbling with his teeth.

I am very liquid now, my breath ragged and broken. Pussy juices trickle and my Master licks them away.

He tongues my entrance, probing, first lightly, and then more deeply. His face presses close to me, drinking my depths as I judder and squirm, fighting the impulse to buck my hips. My face flushing, sweat trickles down between my breasts.

Through my growing euphoria I hear something, a buzz.

A vibe? Where did he get it from? His pocket? I have no time to wonder as abruptly, my Master pins me by one thigh, arm wrapped tight about my leg. In the same moment, he applies the vibe to my clit sending waves of electric stimulation shooting through me. I squeal in shock, convulsing reflexively as he circles my clit with the vibe, first probing into the root, then skimming the tip, now sensitized and swollen. Juices gush from my throbbing cunt and an unbearable euphoria builds in waves as my Master works mercilessly at my tender button.

Orgasm rises quickly, engulfing me in spasm after spasm of pleasure. At some level I am aware that my Master is no longer working my clit, but has buried himself in my pussy, drinking from me as I cum, his mouth locked over me, his tongue penetrating prolonging my climax as I shudder and scream.

Barely does my orgasm subside than he pushes me away and down to the floor. Standing, he towers over me, stripping off shirt and pants. As they drop in a heap beside me he says “On your hands and knees Elizabeth. Ass up. I want to see you.”

Submissively I obey, dropping down to rest on my elbows, head well down so that my naked buttocks are presented for my Master. “Good girl. Now stay there.” He strides to his briefcase and extracts a paddle in red and black leather. I recognise it. I bought it for him as a birthday present.

He walks around me, stroking me with the paddle, skimming my hair with it; sliding it over my spine. Lightly he taps a bare buttock with it and I quiver in anticipation.

“You like that eh?” and he taps the other buttock, harder this time, making me yelp. “Be quiet.” he commands. “Tonight, I think I’m going to test your limits a little. You remember your safe word?”

“Yes Master. ‘Redhead.’”

“Good. Let’s see how far you want to ride…”

A tingle runs down my spine. I have barely come down from the waves of one orgasm but already I feel my body’s response to my Master. Biting my lip, nonetheless, my pussy juices flow, trickling down my thighs.

“I can see tha,t Elizabeth. I know you’re enjoying this. Now…. a question for you. I can either fuck you from behind, or face-fuck you. Which is it to be?”

“I don’t mind Master. You choose.”

With a thwack! that makes me gasp, the paddle slaps across my rear. “Wrong answer Elizabeth. Now, do I shove my cock up your cunt or do I push it down your throat?”

My ass smarting. “My mouth, Master. My mouth.”

Thwack! The paddle again, but this time harder and I yelp.

“Your mouth? What about your mouth?”

“Shove your cock in my mouth Master. Face-fuck me.”

The paddle drops to the ground beside me and this time, instead I feel my Master’s hand slap across my butt, hard this time, really hard. I yell in pain, but my Master is not fooled because my throbbing pussy gushes.

“I still think you’re enjoying this Elizabeth.” And his hand rams hard inside me, pumping in and out. “Ask nicely. If you want me to face-fuck you, ask nicely and tell me what you want me to do.”

“Please Master. Let me suck you off. Let me make you cum.”

“And then?” Thwack! The hand slaps this time, not my buttocks, but my aching and streaming cunt. This time it really hurts and I almost rise up, jolted off my elbows by the pain. But as I start to rise, my Master grabs me by the hair, pinning my head low again. “Did I tell you to move?”

Gasping, “No Master.”

His hand pressing my head to the carpet, my Master kneels between my splayed legs, forcing my knees a little further apart with his, then opening my pussy wider with his fingers. His erection presses again my smarting lips then thrusts inwards.

I am slick and slippery. There is no resistance as he pumps into me, hard, meeting my inner wall. Although my elbows are still on the ground, my back arched to present my open pussy, he pulls my head back and up with my long red hair, making it difficult to breath as I gasp and pant.

“Be quiet!” And still pumping me, he slaps my butt in time with his rhythm, first one side, then the other.

I am close to as much as I can stand. “Redhead!” I yell. “Redhead! Please Master. No more.”

Instantly he withdraws from me and stands. “On your knees, Elizabeth.” And as I kneel up to him, he forces his finger between my lips. “Open!” he commands.

His cock is hugely erect and dripping with my juices as he presses into my mouth. As I wrap my lips and tongue around him, I know that it will not be long. Already I taste the honey-salt of his pre-cum and as I steady myself with one hand on his thigh, I feel the tension and the quiver of the build-up to climax.

I bind my lips tight around my Master’s shaft, feeling the strain and the pulse of pre-climax building at the base as I massage his balls with my free hand. Slipping my tongue around the head and into the sensitive slit, I gag slightly as suddenly he thrusts deep, pinning me by my hair as he shudders and groans in orgasm, spurting into me.

I cough and splutter as his cum fills my mouth, catching me at the back of my throat. Deep in orgasm as he is, my Master’s feels that I am choking and pulls free, shooting instead over my face and into my hair.

As his climax ebbs, I look up at my Master, eyes tight shut, face still locked in a grimace.

Relaxing, he opens his eyes, looking down at my cum-bespattered face. “You’re beautiful Elizabeth.” he says. Then wiping his cum from my face, “A little dishevelled, but beautiful.”

He offers me a hand, helping me stand. I stagger a little, my sore bottom making me a little stiff. “Are you alright Elizabeth?”

“Yes Master, I’m fine, really.” In fact, I am better than fine. I feel wonderful.

I am not going to spoil the moment. I will tell my Master about Mack Kane tomorrow.

The Story Continues in “The Master’s Sin”

Or

Buy Box Set Two – Books 6-10

Also by Simone Leigh

(Updated 10th April 2017)

Bought by the Billionaire

Book 1 - The Master’s Maid (Free Download)

Book 2 - The Master's Contract (Free Download)

Book 3 - The Master's Courtesan

Book 4 - The Master's Desires

Book 5 - The Master's Fantasies

Book 6 - The Master's Obsession

Book 7 - The Master's Sin

Book 8 – The Master’s Heart

Book 9 – The Master’s Rage

Book 10 – The Master’s Revenge

Book 11 - The Master’s Wife

Bought by the Billionaire Box Set

Bought by the Billionaire. Box Set One. Books 1-6 (Free Download)

Bought by the Billionaire Box Set Two. Books 7-10

Buying the Virgin

Book 1 - The Virgin - Auctioned

Book 2 - The Virgin - Sold

Book 3 - The Virgin - No More

Book 4 - The Virgin - Unleashed

Book 5 - The Virgin – Fulfilled

Book 6 - The Virgin’s Holiday

Book 7 – The Virgin’s Christmas

Book 8 - The Virgin’s Valentines

Book 9 - The Virgin’s Master

Book 10 - The Virgin’s Lover

Book 11 – The Virgin’s Fantasies

Book 12 – The Virgin’s Choices

Book 13 – The Virgin’s Summer, Part One

Book 14 – The Virgin’s Summer, Part Two

Book 15 – The Virgin’s Summer, Part Three

Buying the Virgin - Box Set One -  Books 1-5

Buying the Virgin - Box Set Two – Books 6-12

Submissive to Her Master

Book 1 - Enslaved

Book 2 – Enthralled

Book 3 - Entranced

Book 4 – Enticed

Submissive to Her Master Box Set Books 1-4

Call of the Wild

Book 1 – Freedom

Book 2 – Thralldom

Book 3 - Retribution

Book 4 – Revelation

Book 5 – Redemption

Call of the Wild Box Set Books 1-5

Tales of Blood and Darkness

Red as Blood

Single Shot Espresso

Love by the Waters (Free Download) (Sign Up to Our Newsletter for Access)

Standalone

Hearts of Fire. Poems of Love, Romance and Erotica

Visit the Coffee Break Erotica Website

www.coffeebreakerotica.com

Steaming hot erotic stories just right for your Coffee Break.

For less than the price of your latte, make your Coffee Break really memorable.

Contact Me

Simone Leigh

If you would like to get in contact, with comments, questions, reviews or even requests the kinds of stories you would like to read in the future, I’d love to hear from you.

simone@coffeebreakerotica.com

Free Book

The Master’s Birthday

Want to read more about Elizabeth and her Master?

Free Download

It is her Master’s Birthday.

What can Elizabeth give him?

Free Download

“Buying the Virgin. Box Set One”

She Auctioned Herself and Her Virginity

The penniless Charlotte dreams of a bright future, but she has nothing to sell but herself and her virginity. She chooses to auction both to the highest bidder.

What will happen when her owner takes her away?

This is a steamy bdsm erotica tale of a virgin and her first time with a mature alpha male Master...... and others.

Readers of this story will read of an older man with a young woman as he leads her along an erotic trail of adventure and excitement through bdsm, ménage and voyeurism.

Free Download

‘Enslaved’

Book One of ‘Submissive to Her Master.’

Dying of Boredom?

What has she to live for?

Martha is jaded with life to the point of suicide. About to end it all, she encounters a stranger who takes her on a wild ride of passion, convincing her that she has something to live for.

‘Submissive to Her Master’ is a story of Master and Slave, BDSM erotica.

Free Download

‘Freedom’

Book One of ‘Call of the Wild.’

A Perfect Life?

A Perfect Life?

Anna is a writer, making her living on the move and living her life as free as a bird. She seems to have complete freedom and a perfect life. But is everything as it appears?

About the Author

Simone Leigh is English but has lived in Spain for the last few years.

Here, she divides her time between working on her tan, renovating her beautiful villa, writing erotica and swimming naked in her swimming pool.