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A 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 was heard shouting in the hotel, I might lose my job. I could cry over the sheer let down of what has just happened.
Reaching into my 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 cloths and brushes and furniture polish, but as I move, I 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 o’clock.”
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 come 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 brought me to the edge of a crashing climax.
Correction: is still playing a game.
I check my watch—five-thirty, an hour and a half still to go. 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 daze. Fortunately, I have no real problems with any of the work, because were I to have to bend over, for example, the whole world would see that I’m not wearing any panties. He has those, discarded on his bathroom floor. The egg works sporadically, sometimes resting quiescent inside me, but then bringing me upright with a gasp as it suddenly vibrates to life. My pussy juices are running, working their way down my thighs.
Seven o’clock comes and I put my trolley back in the utility closet. 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 and then jerk as the egg buzzes inside 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 with my reaction. “Ah, you do still have it inside you. Nice to know that you can follow 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 says. “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, and then 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 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 must admit that this is a good idea. I nod and walk to the bathroom.
Stepping into the room, which is still steamy from my earlier visit, I start to unbutton my blouse, but I 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 black and lacy bra, 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, I 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 to his deep blue eyes.
“Don’t move. Stay right there,” he demands as 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 combination of pleasure and 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, kissing me hard on the mouth, lingering as he runs his fingers through my hair. He 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, with my back arched, and my butt presented to him.
With my 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 splays himself over me. I had realised he’s tall. I am not short, about five feet nine, but to bend over me like that, he must be well over six feet. His voice murmurs 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, and gasp 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 all right, 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, spraying the water over my breasts and stomach. My pulse is slowing and my breathing is 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, and 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.”
I suddenly feel awkward again. “My hair takes a long time to dry.”
Now, looking at me admiringly, 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 eyes 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, his eyes pointing to a door. The bedroom?
I take his hand, and he helps me from my seat. He is amazingly sexy. His smooth, tanned skin highlights 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, he 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, is 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 the hearth. My eyes slide past wardrobes and drawers, a thick fur rug spread out before the fire. I can only look at that bed. This is a room of fantasies, of dreams.
“Do you trust me, Elizabeth?”
Do I trust him? I have only just met him. But then, I have already allowed him to 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 me to face him, he 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 eyes. “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 me over very carefully, 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 sliding over my arms, my stomach, my buttocks, and my thighs. Despite my amazing orgasm only a little while ago, I am feeling 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’m growing wet again.
He sits on the edge of the bed, examining me, one finger running over my stomach as he looks. “Touch yourself, Elizabeth. 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 he 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, and my pussy juices running down my thighs onto the beautiful sheets. The feeling of giving my all to this beautiful stranger rides me ever higher.
Opening my eyes again, I see 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 is slippery and hot, and the small, attached finger vibe is working my clit too. My orgasm is starting 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 lie there, 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 he 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 my hips up and my pussy exposed. My legs are spread, and my ankles are bound also. I am utterly helpless and completely exposed; I am at the mercy of this man. My pussy lips are swollen and aching, and my 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 his 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, balls-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.”
His 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, I am so wet and swollen, 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. Repeatedly, 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 spread-eagled, all I can do is scream in response to the pain and pleasure of my Master fucking me.
Climax wells up from within, mounting and building, threatening to take me completely. Then in a shattering crescendo, with my heart pounding and pulse racing, my 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, and he then removes the blindfold. My breathing is still quick, and he is flushed and panting, his 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 and 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’ll 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 suite. 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, actually, 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 goggle. 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 race through 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 close again, 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 for 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’ll have a contract. I am not your boyfriend. 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 cr
