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A 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 he also had a bunch of red roses. He had a date, but the date had 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 think you might already have ideas about 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. Can I ask this?
He tilts his head in that now familiar gesture. “Yes?”
“I'd like ...” I cannot speak, a lump is in my throat and tears begin to well up inside me.
He stands, concern on his face, taking me by the shoulders and holding me tightly 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 from him 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 ... 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, looking around the room and then moves to stand by the window, staring out, with his back to me. “Are you falling in love with me, Elizabeth?”
I hold silent for a moment but 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 women I have ever known, the most intelligent, and certainly the sexiest, is falling in love with me?”
Suddenly, he crushes his mouth onto 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, carrying me through to the bedroom and dumping me unceremoniously onto 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.
With 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, he unhooks 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 all over me.
Sitting up, he helps me with the shirt, simply pulling it up over his head before discarding it onto the floor, and then shucks 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 aftershave 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 it 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 as he repositions himself.
I watch his magnificent erection, which is 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 salty and 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 himself 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, with one hand kneading one of my breasts 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, and 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 pass out if he makes me wait any longer, he first probes my pussy, then smoothly sheathes himself inside me. I gasp and cry out, my head flinging back and then forward, my eyes closing instinctively. I barely know what to do with myself from the ecstasy I am feeling from within.
In he slides and out, in and out; neither hard nor gentle, but rather steady and even, and smooth as silk, with a heartbeat rhythm. My own heartbeat is wild, my pulse banging wildly at my temples with 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 and 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 pulse-beat rhythm, my cunt squeezing his cock as I erupt into a mind-blowing orgasm.
Through my physical rapture, I am conscious of his arms encircling me as I cum, and his kisses on my neck and breasts. Gliding down once more from the heights of passion, 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 scent.
With a gasp, his eyes shut tightly, and he shudders into his orgasm, groaning as his hips buck, his cock pressing deeply inside me. With his chest heaving, he collapses on top of 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 like 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 eyes. “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, while walking home from the office, I decide to do a little window-shopping; I still need a few things to furnish my apartment. I 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 the procurement department. He is glaring at me from across the street. I always found him unappealing, something about him making my skin crawl, but now he looks positively toxic.
As I spin to face him, he turns his back, walking quickly from view around a corner. A shudder runs through me. Is it a coincidence? 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. Nonetheless, I go inside the store to 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 more certain of what is happening. For now, I will simply be alert. If Mack is following me, I will soon find out.
Over the next few days, I do not see him again and I conclude that I have an over-vivid imagination. No doubt he just happened to be in that street. Putting it from my mind, I focus on 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 tenth floor, my Master makes me welcome in his office. “Hello, Elizabeth. I just wanted a quick chat. Coffee?”
“Thanks, yes, I’d love one.”
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 does this have 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’s 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 makeup, 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’s 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 and 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 you 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 wearing that arrogant ugly lip curl, 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,” she spits out as 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 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 all right. 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 my arm and tilts my face up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “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 me. “... 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 knows 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 all right, Elizabeth?”
Biting my lip, I reply, “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 he always slips out of sight before I spy him. Mack again?
Unnerved 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 into 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 back 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. He leans forward, one hand caressing my hip and thigh as he inhales deeply. “You smell wonderful, Elizabeth, but then you always do.” 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, when you’re good and wet, I’m going 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, his 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 deepening. “I don’t think we need those, do we?” he says, and one-handed, he teases apart the side laces of the panties, 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 farther 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 start 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 give me a little juice to lubricate myself, making my clit more slippery and easier to work.
“Put your hands on my shoulders. Support yourself,” my Master demands.
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 returning to his work, nibbling at me, chewing lightly at my labia, and 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 back of the couch.”
My Master slides down now directly under me, my pussy open for his inspection. Looking up, he peruses my folds like a gourmet, tasting and licking, flicking at my clit with his tongue, working circles around it, and nibbling with his teeth.
I am very wet 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. With 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 tightly around 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 tension builds in waves, as my Master works mercilessly at my tender button.
My 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 when he pushes me away and down onto the floor. Standing, he towers over me, stripping off his 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, my 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 red and black leather paddle. 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?” 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 that, 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?”
